Those of Good Purpose
by Sadesco
Summary: Part 6 War Stories Saga. Sam is Gone! Taken off with the 'Vohu Manah' on the promise of a way to save Dean. Dean & Hannah must find Sam before the rest of the Hunter community targets him as a bad guy. DWOC MA Language & Sexual Content.
1. Chapter 1

**Those of Good Purpose – Chapter 1**

**Day 286**

**Spokane, Washington – 10:51am**

Well before Dean had called her with the news of Sam's disappearing act, Hannah was already having something of a bad day. She had been woken up in the predawn twilight, with the psychic noise of the hotel sounding like a high pitched fire alarm in her mind. For reasons that perhaps only God could understand, her gifts had decided to pick today to go haywire.

For the first few hours of the morning she hadn't been unable to shield herself from the random thoughts of the other guests at Clark House, which she could only equate with being yelled at by a group of hostile drill sergeants for two solid hours. Then when she had finally gotten that under control she had blown up her kettle and her hair straightener.

So not only had she not had a cup of tea prior to Dean's call, she was also having a very bad hair day, with half of her hair neatly straightened and the other side a fly away tangle of curls; a true Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde affair that left her wondering if she should risk fetching another straightener from Charlotte's trunk or wet her hair again and allow it to dry in it's natural fluffy curls.

Disgusted with it and the prospect of destroying her third electrical appliance of the morning, she had simply dampened it all down and pulled it back into a French braid and refused to look at it any further.

Then Dean had asked her to return to Spokane, which she had done without question despite the growing sense of unease that was tying her stomach into hard knots of apprehension. Since the rail yard, Spokane had felt ominous to Hannah. There was a taint to it that she couldn't work out if it was real or imagined, but all she knew was that she hadn't exactly been in a hurry to come back. She looked down at the note in her hand, just confirming that she had the right address and then hurried up the stairs to the apartment above.

Hannah knocked on the door, and waited patiently for a response, unconsciously straightening her jacket and smoothing her trousers. She heard movement within and a second later the door was opened revealing the tall blonde that Hannah had seen in the rail yard a few nights before.

Before Hannah could even speak, the woman's face showed signs of her recognition, her eyes widening and jaw slackening and falling towards her chest. Hannah was hit full force with a wave of fear so acute it almost doubled her over.

The woman had tried to slam the door, but Hannah had fallen forward under the force of the extreme emotion that had just assaulted her senses and the door hit her shoulder and rebounded inwards against the terrified woman, stealing her balance and sending her sprawling backwards. It took Hannah a moment to realise that the screaming that she heard was actual noise coming from Wendy's mouth and not just something in her head.

She straightened herself gingerly, glancing down the hall on either side to see if Wendy's cries had garnered her any unwanted attention and not seeing any curious heads come out of doors, Hannah slipped inside the apartment, quickly closing the door behind herself to try and contain the commotion.

"Calm down" Hannah instructed in a voice that was made harsh by her own pain. She didn't know if she wanted to clutch at her belly that rolled uncontrollably under the weight of Wendy's fear or cover her ears, that were ringing from Wendy's blood curdling cries.

"Please calm down." Hannah pleaded "I am not here to hurt you."

Her shields must have abandoned here yet again if Wendy's reaction was affecting her so intensely, so in a manoeuvre of self defence, Hannah pushed her back against the door and slid to the floor, pulling her knees up under her chin in a vein attempt to protect her stomach from the onslaught of pain that was making it heave.

Wendy scrabbled backwards, her arms flailing wildly as if Hannah had entered her house with a bloodied chainsaw. She had fallen awkwardly on her injured hand, but ignoring the pain, she found her feet and ran to her bedroom, emerging moments later with the gun Sam had left her pointed directly at Hannah.

Hannah looked up from the floor and seeing the gun in Wendy's hand she sighed a little. She was getting incredibly sick of people sticking guns in her face. On the up side, at least now Wendy had stopped screaming. Hannah studied the tall blonde, she trembled and the gun shook ominously but she stood tall in spite of her fear which Hannah had to admire about her.

"Get the hell out of my house" hissed Wendy between clenched teeth.

"Please Wendy" said Hannah, eyeing the gun nervously. Normally the gun wouldn't have caused her too much concern, but given how fickle her gifts had been today, she wasn't convinced that she could stop a bullet if she had to. "I am just here to speak with you; I honestly mean you no harm."

"I don't believe you" Wendy retorted heatedly

"I know you don't" said Hannah, wishing for all the world that she could stand and look the woman in the eye. She felt overly vulnerable being on the floor, but there was not much she could do about it, and if she had to be honest her less threatening pose was probably the only thing saving her life. "But whatever you have been told about me...I promise you it isn't all true."

Hannah took a moment as Wendy studied her to project a sense of calm into the room and noticed that Wendy's breathing deepened and the gun shook less.

"I just want to talk to you Wendy, you can keep the gun on me the whole time and then I'll leave you in peace, I give you my word."

"How do I know that I can trust you?" said Wendy shifting her weight between her feet nervously.

"Trust has to be earned" replied Hannah, still pushing out calming thoughts into the room "I guess I will have to earn yours. Let's just start with the other night. If I had wanted to hurt you I could have. I think you know that right? But I didn't, I tried to help you fight off all those dogs, I could feel your fear, just as I can feel it now."

Wendy stood unmoved by Hannah's words; she remained silent, starring at Hannah through eyes that were the strange combination of anger and fear.

"Alright" Hannah relented, her legs starting to ache "How about this, that gun you are holding won't hurt me if you fire now."

"You can stop the bullets?" questioned Wendy with a hint of awe in her voice.

"No" replied Hannah "You have the safety on."

Wendy's face shifted from anger to despair in a heartbeat as she glanced down at the gun and realised that Hannah was right. Rapidly she flicked the tiny switch disengaging the safety and tried to regain her hard edged composure, but it was too late her eyes filled with tears of frustration and her face could not hide the self deprecation that she felt for her stupidity.

Hannah felt the other woman's despair wash over her in a cold wave that made the hairs on her neck stand at attention and her exposed flesh break out in goose bumps. She immediately regretted her words, but she could hardly take them back now.

"Don't worry" Hannah said soothingly "The tough girl act doesn't sit well with me either. I still leave the safety on and I've been carrying my gun for nearly 6 months now."

"Are you carrying it now?" questioned Wendy so softly that Hannah felt it, more than heard it.

"No." she replied with a gentle smile impressed by Wendy's question. The girl was frightened but no stupid. "Like I said, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to talk"

"Do you mind if I stand?" Hannah asked, and when Wendy said nothing, Hannah took that as consent and pushed herself to her feet, groaning slightly as her body complained to her about its hideous mistreatment. She rubbed unconsciously at her hand wondering why it ached so intensely, until she realised that she was actually picking up on Wendy's pain.

"Do you need to get some ice for your hand?" she questioned pointing at Wendy's bandaged hand. "I can sense how much that is hurting you. I promise I won't move from this spot while you tend to it."

"Please" said Wendy almost begging "Just say what you have to say and get out of here."

"Alright" Hannah didn't want to cause the poor woman any more grief, after all, she was about to ask her for help.

"Dean called me this morning, he asked me to come here and see you." Hannah began and instantly she felt Wendy stiffen and the gun in the tall woman's hands was raised and retrained on Hannah's chest.

"I was there the other night; I know what Dean said to you. He said he would shoot you if he ever saw you again." hissed Wendy and Hannah could sense that she was loosing this woman. The emotional barriers she was erecting were almost physical walls to Hannah's senses and she held up her hands in supplication.

"That was before." The words hurried past her lips in explanation.

Wendy's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Before what?"

"Before Sam skipped out on him in Huntington."

Wendy cocked her heard, almost like a dog that was confused by a sudden noise. She craned her neck forward like she had misheard Hannah.

"What?" she said slowly, as if somehow making the words slow down would bring clarity to everything.

"Sam left Dean in their hotel room in Huntington at some time this morning. Dean isn't sure when, but he took the truck and all their weapons."

Wendy was silent for a moment as if she was considering everything that Hannah had said.

"Sam wouldn't do that." Wendy said finally, she was trying to bring confidence into her voice, but Hannah could feel the underlying confusion in her word.

"I agree." said Hannah flatly "It is very unlike him, that is why Dean is so worried. You haven't heard from Sam, have you?"

Hannah had intended to be a little more subtle, but somehow that question had found its way out of her mouth.

"No, not since they left." Wendy said almost automatically, but she tensed when she realised that she may had let a vital piece of information slip. What she didn't realise is that Hannah didn't even need her to answer; she could feel the truth of it as clearly as if someone had painted it on the wall behind Wendy's head.

"Why wouldn't Dean just call me himself? Why would he send you?" questioned Wendy, and again Hannah was reminded that this tall beauty was more than a pretty face.

"Honestly?" Hannah said with a slight shrug "He wasn't sure if you would be honest with him if Sam had made you promise not to tell. Dean knows that I can sense the truth and would know if you were trying to hide something."

Hannah didn't want to come straight out and accuse Wendy of lying; after all, she was still at gun point, but she thought how she put it had a certain element of tact and diplomacy to it. That fact that Wendy didn't pull the trigger was also probably a good sign.

"Well you must know I am not lying then?" stated Wendy a note of caution in her voice.

"Yes I do." confirmed Hannah with a small smile

"Is that all?" questioned the tall blonde, the gun beginning to weigh her hand down.

"No" said Hannah, easing her hand bag from her shoulder and pulling out one of her cards and scribbling a cell number on the clear white back.

"This is Dean's mobile number. If you hear from Sam, would you mind calling him and letting him know. He just wants to know that his brother is alright. If you feel it is necessary, you can call Dean and confirm everything that I have told you."

Hannah held the card out to the other woman, but Wendy hesitated to take it, almost unwilling to put her injured hand forward and certainly unwilling to put down the gun and use her right hand.

"I'll just put it here" said Hannah putting it on the small table by the door then holding her hands up again, palms open to show that she hadn't palmed anything or touched anything that she shouldn't.

Wendy nodded her head, an almost thankful gesture.

"I better get going, you need to attend to that hand and I've been making you uncomfortable all this time." said Hannah and moving slowly and easily she moved across the door, until she felt the door handle in the small of her back. Reaching behind herself, she opened it, trying not to take her eyes from Wendy's face.

"Sam said that you saved his life once." asked Wendy, and the question was so unexpected that it left Hannah in stunned silence, merely blinking at the woman across from her.

"Yes, that's true." Hannah finally answered, puzzled by what had prompted Wendy to even ask.

"He also said that he sensed a darkness in you…like evil." she said, and finally Hannah understood the questions and the deep seated feeling of confusion that she felt coming from the girl.

"Yes, that's probably true too." answered Hannah honestly, there was no point lying. She understood coming into this that she would have to give a some of herself to earn the trust that she and Dean both needed from Wendy.

"Why should I trust you then, why shouldn't I just shoot you right now?"

Hannah held the woman's dark brown eyes with her own for a long moment before she spoke.

"Because, just like me, you are choosing good over giving in to the darkness. Everyone has the capacity for great good or great evil; it all just boils down to choice."

With that Hannah slipped out of the door, leaving Wendy feeling battered by her conflicting emotions. She hadn't expected such candid answers from Hannah and it had left her feeling that the picture that Sam had painted of the woman might not be complete. Wendy knew that Hannah was dangerous, she could all but feel it in the crackle of the air around the woman, but was she the evil that Sam accused? Now Wendy was no longer sure.

* * *

**Nampa, Idaho – 11:37am**

'_You know you're having a bad day when…'_ thought Dean as he listed off the litany of things that had happened to him in the past 24 hours. Not only had Sam disappeared without a trace, taking their only mode of transportation and all their weapons, the only car that Dean came across in Huntington that he could steal was a baby shit brown, 84 Oldsmobile Cutlass that smelled of old cigarettes and cat pee.

For the first forty miles, the radio had been stuck on a country station that played Jimmy Buffet and Charlie Daniels back to back, until with a strategic tug of the wires under the dash, Dean had silenced it forever. He hated having to damage the vehicle, but there was only so much country music that one man could take. He was certain that in some states it was even considered cruel and unusual punishment.

Dean was headed for Utah, which was the last place that he and Sam had spoken of before Sam had taken off, but Dean couldn't help the nagging worry of where he would start looking once he crossed the border. Sam had the same training that he did, and their father had taught them to fly under the radar well. Dean also wasn't sure just what sort of a head start Sam had gotten on him. When one travelled like they usually did, 1 hour could equal 100 miles easily.

He was half convinced that he should try and track the demon Rimmon and hope that Sam was still chasing that son of a bitch, but Sam's abrupt parting note left him with doubt that following that path would lead him to his brother and finding Sam had become Dean's number on priority.

On the tatty passenger seat, his phone danced around the holes in the mock leather as it sung the opening riff to 'Smoke on the Water'. Picking it up, he looked briefly at the caller ID and then he snapped the phone open.

"Hey Doc, What did you get from Wendy?"

"I assume you mean besides the gun pointed at my chest…not a great deal I'm afraid. Your brother hasn't exactly left her with a sterling impression of me, but she wasn't lying when she told me he hadn't contacted her."

"Not yet" Dean said, keeping the swearing he wanted so much to do as a mental gesture rather than a physical one "But if I know Sam, he will."

"You may as well let fly with your curse words Dean, I can hear you thinking them anyway."

"Sorry Doc" said Dean, despite the fact that he didn't feel overly repentant.

"Don't apologise" she replied with a laugh in her voice "It was nothing I didn't say myself. I left Wendy your number and asked her to call if Sam contacts her."

"Do you think she will?" questioned Dean, feeling suddenly weary.

"To be honest" replied Hannah a slight hesitation in her voice "I have no idea. When I left her she was very confused. If Sam does contact her I think it will probably depend on the information that he gives her. But she's a smart girl Dean, I think if she senses anything a little off, then she'll call."

Sam sighed deeply, regretting it instantly as he tasted the stale bitter tang of nicotine that was throughout the car.

"So we are back to square one." he said, trying to keep the sour face he was pulling from affecting his tone "How soon can you be in Utah?"

"I'm already on the road, if I push hard, some time late tonight maybe early morning tomorrow."

"Alright" said Dean, pulling up his mental map of the Interstate highway and the towns along it. "I'm heading for Tremonton, I'll wait for you there."

"I'll find you." promised the Doc, and with that she was gone.

Dean looked at the phone momentarily, then closed it and put it back on the seat. No sooner had it left his hand that it started to ring again. With his heart in his throat he looked at the caller ID almost willing it to be Sam.

He couldn't help the disappointment that flooded him when he saw Bobby's name flash on the screen.

'_God damn it'_ he muttered as he opened up the phone almost dreading this conversation.

"Bobby" he said without preamble "What's up?"

"Can you talk?" said the older man conspiratorially

"Yep" replied Dean, formulating the best way to tell Bobby about Sam's sudden departure.

"Dean, I have Ellen with me. We have a plan for Sam, but you need to get him to Santa Rosa, Florida in the next day or so. I have a friend there that I think can help"

Dean winced as Bobby spoke realising that given there last conversation, Bobby wasn't going to take his most recent news terribly well.

"Love to oblige Bobby" said Dean "But no can do."

"What?" replied the older man incredulously "Why?"

"Sam isn't with me." Dean stated, feeling that the fast direct method was probably the best approach. Pussy footing around an issue wasn't his style "He took off in the middle of the night some time, took your truck and vamoosed."

"Do you think he read you?" asked Bobby, ever the pragmatist.

"No" replied Dean "He left a note. He wouldn't do that if he knew that I had contacted you, he would have just taken of."

"What did the note say?" questioned Bobby

Dean sighed, almost embarrassed to say it out loud "It said he has found a way to save me from my deal."

"Do you think he has?" Bobby's tone was shifting rapidly from pragmatic to concern.

"If he has" replied Dean carefully "Why did he decide to tackle it alone, why not take me along?"

"I wouldn't put it past him, you boys have done some pretty crazy stuff since I've known you."

"No" stated Dean emphatically "It doesn't feel right; we made a pact that we would do this together. Sam wouldn't break that lightly."

"He would if he thought it would put you in danger." retorted Bobby. "Dean, do you still have the colt?"

Dean swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry "No" he said quietly "It was in the lock box in the truck."

Dean heard Bobby swear on the other side of the phone and had to confess that he had mirrored that reaction himself. "Damn it, that's the key to the hell gate! Whoever has that has the ability to open the gates of hell, do you understand what that means."

"I understand Bobby" hissed Dean, his own anger rising "I was there that night too."

"Dean, I'm going to have to tell the others" said Bobby his voice filled with regret "They need to know about this."

"Don't do that Bobby." Dean said firmly, realising that if the word got out to the hunter community that Sam had gone missing with the colt, he would become just as hunted as the demons that they were trying to destroy.

"Well you haven't given me much of a choice here kiddo."

"Just give me a week" said Dean firmly, his tone broking no argument "He's my brother and I will find him."

"A week?" said Bobby more as a statement than a question "Alright, I'll give you that."

"Give me your word" hissed Dean, knowing that within Bobby there was a battle raging between loyalty and pragmatism.

"You have my word on it." said Bobby "You have a week."

Dean didn't bother saying goodbye, he just snapped the phone shut. Those sorts of pleasantries one reserved for their friends and Dean was no longer sure if he could count Bobby among that group anymore. He wanted too, but the practical reality was that Bobby would do exactly what he thought needed doing, even if it meant taking out a friend.

He tossed the phone back on the passenger seat, running his hand agitatedly through his hair. He hated travelling in silence, hell it was almost worse than travelling with perpetual country music….almost.

If he were to be completely honest, the truth was, Dean hated travelling by himself. Dean felt his strongest and most confident when he was part of a team. He was a natural born leader, but that means less than nothing when you've got no one to follow you.

Hanging his arm out of the cars open window, Dean drummed out and impatient rhythm on the roof, trying to break up the silence and the monotony of freeway driving.

His stomach growled angrily at him, reminding him that he hadn't had any breakfast yet and as he glanced down at the clock on the dash, he realised that he had less than a quarter of a tank of gas left. In these land liners that usually translated into a couple of hundred miles, but Dean couldn't be sure, so he decided to err on the side of caution.

As he hit the Regina county limits he started to look for signs to a gas station. Even though he had driven through Boise and not stopped, he was pretty certain that there would be a gas station out here, taking advantage of all those interstate travellers who were reminded that they should really have gotten gas back in the large town because there was nothing but farmland and forest on either side of them now.

Sure enough, as he got close to Mountain Home, a small clearing in the bushland next to the road heralded a small gas station and Dean headed for the driveway. He had been to hundreds of these tiny gas stations and the two pump operation didn't fool him at all. Stations like this were often very lucrative. Folks tended to get a little jumpy when they went for a stretch without seeing any signs of civilisation. The irony was that a mile or two down the road in Mountain Home, a traveller probably had their pick of gas stations.

Dean pulled up at the bowsers and nodded to the old man in the shop as he got out of the car. The old proprietor must have taken that as a sign that Dean would serve himself as he made no motion to move away from his counter, even though 'driveway service' was promised on the badly faded sign out the front.

Dean watched the numbers on the old analogue pump click over as her stood there filling the car with gas. There was something almost hypnotic about those old pumps that made you somehow forget that you were pumping masses of expensive fuel into your gas guzzler. It was a nuance that digital pumps just couldn't compete with.

Dean dropped the nozzle back into the pump and fixed the gas cap back in place and then trotted inside the shop to pay. The shop itself was like a bad cliché, cluttered with stock of every kind ranging from stink bait to twenty year old potato chips.

He grabbed a relatively safe looking packet of Doritos from the shelf, deliberately avoiding anything that had been there long enough to gather dust, then he moved through the narrow isle of strange and unusual grocery's to get to the small fridge at the back of the cramped store.

As he reached for a coke, Dean heard the squealing of tyres and the shrill whine of brakes desperately needing a new set of pads. He looked up into the mirror that had been strategically placed so that the owner could see all the corners of the store, and saw the beat up pickup pull in next to his crappy Cutlass.

A young man, probably only a teenager dressed in a baggy baseball jacket, dark glasses and a cap pulled down low over his eyes jumped out of the passengers door, followed by a slightly shorter man, wearing a hooded sweat shirt and a long duster over the top. The mid morning sun shone down, making the morning fairly warm, certainly in Dean's estimation too warm for baseball jackets and dusters.

'_Give me a break'_ thought Dean as he watched the birth of the armed robbery that was just about to take place. Apparently he wasn't the only one who had noticed what a little goldmine these small gas stations could be.

Keeping one eye on the advancing pair in the anti-theft mirror, Dean started towards the front of the shop where the old proprietor was engrossed in his 'Tackle and Bait' magazine.

The kid in the baseball jacket walked towards the counter, stopping occasionally to look at something on the cluttered shelves. The boy in the duster had headed towards the back of the shop, he had probably been told to do crowd control if there was anyone else in here and just to ensure there were no surprises he was doing a sweep of the shop.

Dean watched both of them as he moved casually towards the counter, he was timing his approach so that he and 'Mr Baseball Jacket' would hit the front at the same time. Perhaps the mere fact that there was a witness to this little felony would put these little bastards off before anything started. Dean didn't honestly think it would, but it never hurt to be optimistic.

In the mirror he could see the youth in the duster coming down the isle behind him. Dean didn't like to have this kid at his back, but if it was his choice he wouldn't even be getting caught up in this felony in progress. _'Oh well'_ he thought sardonically, '_You work with what you have.'_

Dean stepped towards the counter just as the kid in the baseball jacket pulled a .22 from his pocket.

"Sick em up" said the kid, tension making his voice jump octaves as he spoke.

Dean tried to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Here we were, well into the new millennium and would be thieves still had not come up with anything better than _'Stick em up.'_

The old man dropped his magazine clearly surprised to be on the wrong side of a gun. Obviously this was a completely new experience for him, so Dean would probably have to take the lead on this one.

As the kid waving the .22 yelled demands at the old man to empty the till and open the safe, Dean glance up into the mirror to check out the kid at his back. From somewhere beneath the duster the kid had produced a shot gun the end of the barrel was only a foot or so away from Dean's back.

Assessing the threats of both, 'Duster boy' was the most imminent. If he was going to be able to get that shotgun off him without getting anyone killed he needed to bring the kid in closer.

"Hey" said Dean sharply, his hands still in the air in supplication, but his voice angry and hard. "Quit waving that gun around before you hurt someone."

The kid with the .22 kept the gun pointed at the old man, but his attention was drawn directly to Dean. The kid at his back was now also paying very close attention to him. He had taken two steps forward and Dean could now almost feel the barrel of the gun in his spine.

"Keep your trap shut" hissed the hero in the duster as he pushed the gun viciously into Dean's back.

Dean inhaled holding his breath for a moment as he prepared himself for action, then he launch into motion like a striking snake. These two 'amateurs' had his anger up now and he was going to make them pay sorely for making his already bad day worse.

He pivoted quickly, using one hand to push the barrel of the shot gun away from where it could do any harm to him of the old man. Shock registered for a moment on 'Duster' boy's face, but Dean didn't let it sit there for long, as he shoved the barrel of the gun up hard and fast so that it hit the kid squarely in the nose.

The distinctive sound of cartilage shattering could be heard as the kid, let go of the shot gun and reach up to his mangled face, which was now a fountain of gushing fire engine red blood.

As Dean fought for the shotgun he knew that his back would be exposed to 'Mr .22', so to protect himself, he dropped his shoulder low and collected 'Duster' boy squarely in the stomach, launching him over his shoulder in the hopes that the chance of hitting his friend may keep 'Mr .22' from pulling on the trigger.

The battered young thug hit the ground with an explosive exhalation of breath, and Dean had used the confusion of his flailing tumble to cock the shotgun and turn it on 'Mr .22'. Dean watched with a hint of amusement as 'Mr .22's' eyes went from his downed partner in crime, to looking straight down both barrels of one heavy duty shotgun, wielded by a very pissed off hunter. Dean almost snarled just to see if the kid would flinch, but he didn't. 'Mr .22' was still armed and could still do damage to either Dean of the old man.

To his credit, 'Mr .22' composed himself quickly, turning the hand gun back on Dean. It barely shook at all in his hands, but Dean just saw that as a personal challenge. Dean took and easy step forward placing the sole of his boot across 'Duster' boy's throat. The poor boy gurgled miserably and his hands came up to Dean's boot to try and relieve some of the pressure.

"What are you packing there Princess, a .22 Baretta?" hissed Dean his eyes narrowing as he sited the thug down the barrel of the shotgun.

"Browning actually." said the kid with all the bravado that he could muster.

'_Ahhhh, a smartarss'_ thought Dean with delight. He was really going to enjoy this.

"Let's get real" he said, stealing one of his favourite lines from Dr Phil "You shoot me with that pea shooter, you could hit me, hell you might even kill me, but the likelihood is that you'll just piss me off, and I'm already having A VERY BAD DAY."

Dean punctuated his last words by apply pressure on 'Duster' boy's throat making him whimper like a dog with each word. The sudden and pungent smell of urine, made him realise that the boy on the floor had just pissed himself in fear. That was ok, that played right into Dean's strategy. He had to appear to be the biggest, badest 'son of a bitch' in the shop if his gambit was going to work.

"Now, let's look at the counter argument to that. I shoot you with this hand canon and you end up with a hole the size of a basket ball in your chest. Who do you think has the better odd in this little Mexican stand off?"

So, Dean was stretching the truth a little about the sort of damage that this shot gun would do. He thought that the description was appropriately graphic even if the technicalities were a little off.

"What do you think 'Duster' boy? Who's your money on?" growled Dean steadily increasing the pressure on the boy's throat.

"Dwop the gunn Pete" gurgled 'Duster' boy, his words barely escaping his throat as he spoke.

"That's good advice there Pete" Dean said coldly, a vicious smile curling up his lips cruelly "Why don't you put the gun on the counter and we can all get on with having our respective bad days."

Pete's eyes shifted nervously between Dean and his friend on the floor. Dean knew he had won the mind battle with this kid by the way he shifted his wait agitatedly for foot to foot. Dean was just waiting now for Pete to figure it out.

An angry horn sounded from the pickup outside, and Pete glanced nervously over his shoulder, the gun wobbled slightly in his hand, like he had decided and the reconsidered within a millisecond, then he slammed it down on the counter, turned tail and ran for his life.

Dean clucked his tongue in mock disappointment "Where is the honour among thieves Pete" he called after the boy as he watched him disappear "what happened to never leaving a man behind?"

Dean reached down grabbing 'Duster' boy by his sweat shirt and dragging him to his feet. With one strong push, he propelled him towards the door, just as the pickup disappeared down the highway.

"Don't come back" yelled Dean, feeling the heady sensation of satisfaction fill his body "Or next time I'll break more than your nose."

Years of weapons training made Dean crack the shotgun and lay it safely over his arm. As he turned to the old man behind the counter he realised that the old man had neither moved nor spoken during the whole confrontation. He was statue still, his jaw still hanging limp on his face.

"You alright?" Dean questioned growing slightly concerned with the pallor of the old man's skin.

The man didn't speak, but he nodded his mouth closing as he did so.

"Good" replied Dean surreptitiously putting the .22 in his waistband and fishing out his wallet. "How much for the gas?"

"Take it" said the old man his eyes wide and his face still showing his shock "It's on the house."

Dean smiled broadly at the old man as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket "Thanks old timer, that's really kind of you…hope you have a good day."

Dean picked up the Coke and the Doritos where they had fallen on the floor and headed for the door, glancing back at the old man who still stood like a marble statue at the counter.

"Hey" he heard just as he was about to step out. "Do you think I should call the cops?"

Dean stuck his head back in the shop, he wasn't really keen about involving the local law enforcement, particularly as he was in a stolen car, but the old man wasn't looking too good and he was worried that the old timer might have a stroke or a heart attack as soon as he left.

"If it will make you feel better" Dean replied going with an answer as non committal as he could "But they won't ever be back, trust me."

With that he walked out to the Cutlass, lay his newly purloined shotgun on the passenger's seat, then hurried around to slip in behind the wheel. A new shotgun, a .22 and a free tank of gas, maybe his day was starting to look up.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Those of Good Purpose – Chapter 2**

**Day 286**

**Tremonton, Utah – 11:18 pm**

Dean lay on the lumpy motel bed, starring at the ceiling. He had been trying to get some sleep, but the ever present feeling of helplessness and frustration had been slowly turning into anger and he felt on the verge of erupting at any moment.

He had hit Tremonton in the early afternoon and unsure of how far behind him the Doc was; he decided to get a motel room to wait it out. Concerned that the gas station attendant back in Mountain Home had called the cops, Dean had decided that it was the safest thing to ditch the Cutlass.

He had pulled off the highway at Glenns Ferry and left the Cutlass in the parking lot of a large golf course there. He had been glad to see the back of the pile of shit and in its place he had managed to steal an 89 Toyota Supra from the neighbouring airport. There was rust in the Supra's doors and the engine rattled hideously, but it had an operating sound system, so Dean had simply turned up the music to cover all of the mechanical sins.

The music in the car had given him something to focus on instead of letting his own thoughts fester, but the silence in the motel room gave him no distractions to fixate on so his mind went through the last few weeks with a scathing recollection.

He had been loosing Sam for a while; he had been able to see it, he had just felt unable to do anything about it. That very fact mauled at his pride, because deep down he new that he was strong and capable. He had to believe that to do what he did for a living, but with Sam he had just been on the back foot the whole time.

Once he lost the common experience he shared with Sam, a gulf had formed between them. Dean knew that he was not solely to blame for that and a large portion of his anger burned brightly for Sam. They had always been stronger as a team…always, and even when Dean had every reason to leave his brother and pursue his own happiness, he had chosen to remain loyal to the team.

He had picked Sam above everything and everyone else but as soon as Sam was tested, he had abandoned Dean, leaving him without transport or weapons. What fuelled Dean's anger the most was that Sam had gone in spite of how deeply it would cut Dean. He obviously knew that it would, hell, he'd even mentioned it in his brief parting note, but he had gone anyway. Given everything that they had already been through, Sam just couldn't put his faith in his family, he had to take off alone.

Dean rolled over, wishing for all the world that he could go a few rounds with a heavy bag and just pound the shit out of it until he felt better. Maybe he could find a rowdy bar somewhere and pick a fight. But it wouldn't help anyone much if he managed to get himself taken out before his year was up, so he dismissed the idea.

On the nightstand behind his head, his phone blared to life, with hasty hands Dean grabbed onto it, looking with hope at the caller id, he had been wishing for Sam, but the Doc was a pretty good second.

"Hey Doc, Where are you?"

"I've just passed through Burley, so I'm about 50 miles or so away."

"So you'll be here in about an hour or so?" questioned Dean, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief course through him.

"Should do, but Dean I have this strange feeling and the closer I get to you, the stronger it grows. I think we need to keep heading south." said Hannah, and Dean could hear a strange note in her voice.

"South? Is it Sam, is he further south?" questioned Dean, eager for anything that might give him some further clue as to where his brother might have gone.

He heard Hannah sigh on the other end of the phone.

"I'm honestly not sure Dean, I just have this instinct pulling on me to head south. I wish I could be more specific."

"It's alright Doc" consoled Dean "I'll be ready when you get here. I'm in at the Sandman Hotel, Main Street West, Room 18."

"I'll be there as soon as I can" she said, and then was gone.

Dean sat up, filled with purpose. His anger still beat at him, but he pushed it deep within. Anger wouldn't serve him well now, only calm logic would, so he centred his thoughts and began making plans so that he would be ready when the Doc arrived.

**

* * *

**

Heyburn, Idaho – 11:23pm

Hannah put her phone on the passenger seat and picked up the tall cup of coffee that she had bought herself at the gas station in Hazelton. She wasn't normally a coffee drinker, but nearly 12 hours of straight driving can change anyone's habits.

She took a sip of the dark liquid, hoping that the caffeine would kick in and revive her. Exhaustion beat at her concentration and she knew she was travelling in a real danger zone. Her eyes were heavy and her attention drifted badly and the strange pull that she felt on her gifts troubled her. It was familiar and yet somehow different to everything that she had experienced before, but she could not ignore the definite drive to head south.

The highway was heading east across Idaho at this point and the further Hannah travelled in this direction, the worse she began to feel. Her skin burned, her eyeballs itched and her stomach rolled almost uncontrollably. The was a buzzing in her ears like static and her body ached with more than just fatigue

In a few miles the highway would split and let her head down into Utah and she prayed that it would give her some measure of relief, she hadn't felt a pull this strong in a very long time, and never had she been so unsure about its source.

Despite the late hour there were still other cars on the highway in this part of Idaho and Hannah was finding the lights of the oncoming traffic mesmerising. She had started to fixate on them and given the late hour and her growing fatigue, she was in the potentially lethal position of steering her car right for them. If the stake weren't so high, she would have pulled over long before now.

'_No'_ she chastised herself mentally _'Pull it together'_

The last few weeks had put an incredible strain on her body, and she couldn't remember ever feeling so tired in her life. Even when she had been a graduate student, pulling all-nighters in the library to get some paper or thesis chapter finished she had never felt this tired.

As memory came back to her of her days as a student, she couldn't help smiling ruefully. Things like research deadlines and journal publications had been life or death issues then, now they just seemed incredibly banal and trite when she compared them to what they were now facing.

She just hoped that she could somehow help Dean find Sam. After visiting Wendy and reading from the woman the impression that Sam had left of her, Hannah was in no doubt that if she and Sam were to meet now in conflict, Sam would probably try and kill her and he carried so much power within him, that he would probably succeed. Her one hope, was the she could get Dean close to him and perhaps then the older Winchester may be able to get through to his brother.

Sam was powerful and he was smart. Hannah had no doubt that he was somehow being manipulated, but if she was right, what kind of entity would have the power to be able to do that to someone as trained and intelligent as Sam Winchester.

It had been an idea that had dogged her from Spokane, but if Sam wasn't the worst thing that they were up against, how would they fair against whatever was now pulling his strings.

**

* * *

**

Day 285

**Tremonton, Utah – 00:39 am**

Dean heard the distinctive throaty growl of Charlotte well before the Doc pulled into the car park of the motel. In the quiet Tremonton streets it rang like thunder, and he grabbed the duffle that he had left by the door and went to stand out the front of his room.

About half an hour before, he had taken the Supra to a group of shops a few blocks away and left it there. He didn't want the stolen car to be traced back to him in any way, so the anonymous parking lot seemed the best option.

The night air had a bite to it, but Dean ignored it as he waited for Charlotte to pull in. There was a sense of anticipation that surprised Dean, he had in reality only seen the Doc a few nights before, but to have her here now, to not be alone as he searched for Sam, that was important to him and he was grateful that she had agreed to come.

His stomach did a curious roll as he watched the headlights pull in, then he watched as Charlotte's sleek blue sides pulled up along side him. Dean was overwhelmed for a moment with relief at the mere sight of Charlotte and the Doc. He didn't move at all, he just watched as the Doc killed the engine and got out of the car.

Intellectually Dean realised that the Doc had just driven near twelve hours straight, but he was taken back by her appearance as he watched her walk around behind Charlotte. On the surface she looked as she always looked…perfect, but as she got close Dean could see that she was incredibly pale, her eyes were bloodshot and glassy with fatigues and they were framed with dark bruises that not even her makeup could conceal.

She stood in front of him, only a foot our so away, and he could think of nothing to say. Between the overwhelming gratitude he felt that she had come and the sudden concern he had for her well being, no words would form, he just stood there looking into her steel blue eyes.

Hannah smiled gently, the gesture warming up the cool beauty of her eyes, then without exchanging a word she slipped Charlotte's keys into Dean's hand and turned to get in the passengers door. Dean felt the metal of the keys bite into his hand and was instantly humbled by the gesture of trust that the Doc's simple action signified.

Charlotte was important to the Doc; perhaps as important as the Impala was to Dean. It was something that connected her to her dead brother, a tangible reminder of the relationship that they had once shared and she had just entrusted it to Dean without a hint of hesitation. Dean wondered if the roles had been reversed if he could have done the same.

Before she could move too far away, he reached for her catching her arm just above the elbow and pulled her to him, burying his face in the soft curve of her neck. Warmth immediately flooded through him as he curled his arm around her and pulled her close, letting her scent wash over him.

Fatigue and relief filled Hannah and she let herself melt into Dean, brining her arms up to cradle his head as he pulled her close. Not even the rasping scratch of his stubbled chin could take away from the sublime feeling of having him close. Hannah hadn't realised it, but there had been a growing sense of anticipation within her ever since she had stopped at the cabin in South Dakota.

It suddenly dawned on her that much of her dislike of Spokane had been her inability to realise the emotions that fuelled that anticipation. Dean had wanted her, longed for her in that isolated cabin in South Dakota, yet in Spokane he had been forced to distance himself for the sake of others.

As she held him in the cold night air of Tremonton, it felt right, like the answer to a question she hadn't even realised that she had asked. Long moments passed with neither of them moving or exchanging a word, but Hannah could feel the conflict going on within Dean. He was loathed to let her go, but he was also being pulled by the need to continue in his brother's pursuit. Hannah stepped back from their embrace, smiling at him as he sort out her eyes with his own.

Dean cleared his throat as an awkward pause stretched out between them, he wasn't exactly a PDA kind of guy and he almost felt like he should offer her some kind of explanation of something, but the Doc never gave him the opportunity. She just turned without a word and got into the passengers seat, disappearing behind the tinted glass of the window.

Dean shouldered his duffle and felt the butt of the shotgun press awkwardly into his back. It had taken a little creative packing to get the shotgun into his duffle, but as they say necessity was the mother of invention.

He opened up Charlotte's trunk and wedged his duffle in between the Doc's luggage and the hefty set of Snap-ons that she kept there for mechanical emergencies. Idly he noticed the replacement kettles, hair dryers and straighteners pushed into the far corner of the trunk, and he couldn't help the smile that touched his lips. It was nice to know that the Doc was prepared for just about anything.

Dean closed the trunk and walked around the car to slip into the driver's seat. The Doc watched him patiently as he eased himself into the dove grey leather seat. Dean missed his Impala excruciatingly, but as substitutes went, Charlotte was certainly second to none, particularly when he compared her to the crappy cars that had got him this far.

Dean turned the engine over and nearly sighed in ecstasy as the barely tamed horse power under the hood rocked the car gently to a symphony of pumping cylinders. He couldn't help smiling as the engine growled each time he pumped on the gas and he turned to see the Doc smiling back at him. There was a moment of common understanding, of mutual appreciation and respect. Then Dean put Charlotte in gear and headed out of the parking lot.

He stopped briefly to drop his key in the night return chute, and then he hit Main Street with an aggressive launch more suited to a drag strip than a small town in Utah. It felt good to have the power that he was so used to at his fingertips once again. It felt better than going a few rounds with a heavy bag, even felt better than a down and dirty bar fight…hell in a few hundred miles he may even start to feel happy.

In under half and hour Dean and Hannah were travelling on the I84 into Ogden. As they passed through the sleeping suburb, Hannah caught sight of the Highway sign that forecast the split between the I84 and the I15. The sign seemed to hurt her eyes like it had been made of a blinding white light, and for a reason that she could not explain, her instincts told her to stay with the I84.

"Dean" she said, squinting out of the window like she was looking directly into the sun "Stay with the 84, take the Morgan exit."

Hannah had no idea where that last little bit of insight had come from, but she had learnt long ago not to question it. Her gifts may be fickle, often times inconvenient, but they were rarely wrong.

Without question Dean headed towards the exit. He was actually very grateful; the I15 was the most direct route south, but it took them right through the middle of Salt Lake City, and even though Dean was no longer in a stolen car, the further he stayed away from major cities, the happier he tended to be.

As they headed down the quieter I84, the traffic thinned out and Dean felt more comfortable opening Charlotte up. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught sight of the Doc moving and he looked over towards her. He watched as she undid the tight braid that her hair had been in and she sighed with relief as she ran her hand through the tangle of curls. It was surprising just how much hair could sometimes hurt. Of course it didn't hurt to cut or wash or anything, but leave it up for too long and Hannah knew from experience, it could get down right torturous.

The simple action surprised Dean. Rarely, but for the most extreme of circumstances, had he ever seen the Doc with a hair out of place, now she was letting her hair down…literally, and for the first time Dean understood the true meaning of that expression.

He had known from very early on, that the Doc's manicured appearance was her battle armour, the thing that gave her the confidence to face just about anything and as he watched her running her fingers through her tangled hair, he wondered if she felt comfortable enough with him to let down some of her defences and drop some of the pretences of perfection that she held onto so tightly.

Either that or she was exhausted and just didn't care anymore. He of course couldn't rule that out as a possibility, but he was going to hang on to the hope that the Doc was just becoming more comfortable with him. She was showing that she trusted him and it was a revelation to Dean just how much trust meant to him.

Loyalty was a major foundation in Dean's code of ethics, as twisted as that code probably was, and there could clearly be no loyalty without trust. As he thought over that, he pondered if that was why he was so angry with Sam. Sam hadn't trusted him enough to let him in on this little mission, in fact the trust between the brothers had been decaying for a while, on both sides.

Hannah glanced over at Dean. She could almost hear the thoughts rattling around in his head as they attacked him with machine gun efficiency. He still had not said a word, but he was a riot of conflicting emotions, she could feel that down to her core.

Despite her best efforts, Hannah's eyes began to get heavy and before she could stop it, he head began falling forward towards her chest, pulled by the extreme exhaustion that dogged her body. Dean's lips curled up in a smile as he watched the Doc battle to stay awake. Just from the look of her, he knew it was a battle she wasn't going to win, but she tenaciously tried to keep her eyes open and on the road ahead of them.

"Why don't you get some sleep Doc." he finally said, and she turned her smoky eyes on him, her eyes wide with embarrassment, as if she had been caught with her hand firmly in the cookie jar.

"I'll wake you if I need your help with directions or something."

The Doc seemed to consider this for a moment; her eyes fixing on the long stretch of dark highway ahead of them, then in a move that had Dean's brows arched high in surprised, she put the flat of her palm down on his leg, a few inches up from his knee.

"Put your hand over mine." she said and Dean's curiosity was peaked even further.

As instructed he lay his right hand over hers and looked at her expectantly, as if there was obviously an explanation or more instructions to come.

"Can you feel that?" she questioned, her tired eyes watchful on his face.

Dean's brow furrowed deeply in confusion "What? Your hand?"

"Don't concentrate on the physical; concentrate on what it makes you feel."

Dean nearly snorted. If he was going to be honest, her hand on his leg was making him feel as horny as hell, but he doubted that was what she meant. He took a deep breath focusing his thoughts and flexed his hand again over hers.

At first all he could feel was the softness of her long graceful fingers and the smooth perfection of nails buffed and manicured. He felt the heat from her palm leech into his leg and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the subtle beat of the pulse that was thrumming out a rhythm in the arteries and capillaries in her hand.

Everything that he felt he knew was all physical, but he was a physical kind of guy, he had trouble thinking in any other kind of way. If it felt good, you did it; if it hurt, you stopped and if someone hurt you, you hurt them until they couldn't hurt you any more. Simple!

'_Concentrate on what it makes you feel.'_ Dean repeated in his mind to try and focus on what the Doc was asking of him. All of the physical things that he had identified began to fade in his mind and as he let them go, new sensations took there place.

He felt a pull on his gut, a sensation like nothing he had ever felt before. If he had to describe it to someone, he would have almost called it hunger, but without the desire for food. It was a tension in his stomach, a sensation not painful exactly, but certainly not pleasant.

He let it fill his senses for a while, trying to understand exactly what it was he was feeling. As the highway took a heading to the south east, he felt the sensation increase in intensity, and he had to blink slightly as his eyes began feeling scratchy and irritated.

"What am I feeling here Doc?" he asked, letting go of her hand and rubbing at his eyes as they watered to clear out the phantom grains of sand that scratched at his eyelids.

"Me" she said quietly watching him.

Dean turned to look at her, his eyes still blinking furiously, even though without contact with her the sensations had died almost immediately.

"This is your instincts, the internal compass you keep talking about?"

Hannah nodded, Dean barely seeing the gesture in the darkened car.

"God damn" he muttered "No wonder you wanted to keep on heading South."

"You do get used to it." Hannah assured, but Dean was at a loss to see how.

He picked up the Doc's hand and threaded his fingers through hers. If this is what the Doc lived with, Dean could bare it for a few hours.

"Go to sleep Doc" he said running his thumb over the smooth skin on the back of her hand "I know what I'm looking for now, I'll be fine until you wake up."

Hannah smiled at him; squeezing his hand gently, then she settled herself in the seat and was quickly drifting off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Those of Good Purpose – Chapter 2**

**Day 285**

**Mexican Hat, Utah – 2:25 am**

Sam lay in the bed with an arm over his eyes. His body was tired and it hungered for sleep, but his brain was awake and active, thinking through the strange turn of events that had bought him to this room in the Canyonlands Motel.

He had spent most of his life in motel rooms around the nation, so in theory he should be used to the change in surroundings, but he couldn't shake the sensation that there were cockroaches crawling through his bed linen and insects buzzing around his face. Rationally he knew that wasn't the case, but he was so on edge, it may as well have been…he was certainly not going to get any rest this night.

Perhaps his discomfort was less about the room and more about the company. He had shared his room with someone nearly all of his life. When he was with Dean, it was the familiarity and comfort of family. When he had been with Jess, she had represented unconditional love and acceptance, and when he was with Wendy, it had felt like finding a safe harbour in the storm. Now Sam felt like a soldier far behind enemy lines.

He rolled over slightly uncovering his eyes and looking at the bed opposite his where Mel slept, a tangle of teenaged limbs and bed clothes. The girl breathed deeply in her sleep, but Sam had heard her whimper once or twice in the way that animals do when they are plagued by dreams.

They had travelled for hours together in the cab of the truck and Mel had barely opened her mouth unless it was to whinge, complain or request a pit stop. Sam had found that she grated on every nerve that he had, but still he was wildly curious about her. She was like him, of that he was certain, but he knew nothing about her background or how she had come to be with Isabelle.

Sam had wanted to ask her, but Isabelle had not left them alone for any more than a minute, and given how much Mel seemed to resent his presence, it was hard to bring up any of his questions in conversation with the girl.

Sam shifted again in the bed, this time rolling in the opposite direction so that he could look at the other who shared his room. He was hesitant to call her a girl, because he knew that she was so much more than the tiny body she inhabited. She stood now, a silent sentinel, looking out between the gaps of the Venetian blinds that covered the room's only window.

Isabelle had sat beside him in the truck all day and had remained mostly quiet except for the occasional road direction. Sam had no idea where they were going and Isabelle ignored all of his questions whenever he had asked. He hated going into a situation so blind and if Dean's immortal soul wasn't on the line, he would have turned his back on this strange pair hours ago.

Although Isabelle had forbidden him to use his cell phone, in the morning he would ring Wendy and check up on her and if he could manage it, he would drop Dean a text and just let him know that he was safe and thinking of him.

As the thought drifted through his mind, Sam felt eyes upon him and he looked up to see Isabelle's eerie eyes looking directly at him in the darkness. His body stiffened instinctively, his hand closing over the gun under his pillow.

"You should rest Sam, you will need all of your strength soon." The girl had whispered her words, but they echoed around the silent room like thunder.

Sam looked over to Mel, to see if they had disturbed the sleeping teenager, but her breathing was still deep and even, so he turned his eyes back to Isabelle, who was watching him with an unblinking stare.

"Why?" he whispered back only to see Isabelle smile slightly.

"I don't know why you persist in asking me questions that you know I will not answer."

"Why won't you answer them?" persisted Sam, disciplining himself to keep his voice at a whisper.

"You can't keep a secret Sam." said the girl, turning back to look out the window "And until you learn how, then I can't risk telling you."

"What the hell do you mean, 'can't keep a secret'; I've barely spoken to anyone other than you and Mel all day?"

"That is not what I mean" replied the girl, still peering out into the dark car park beyond "And I think you know it. You left in the truck with us yesterday morning, and we have travelled here together, but you are not really with us. Your heart and your thoughts are still with your brother, they never truly left him."

"What are you talking about?" snarled Sam, angered that he could be so transparent to this entity.

"Even now he searches for you. He is aided by that Riordan woman, but it is your connection to him that guides them. And if they find us Sam, you will not like what I have to do."

"Your lying" Sam said, his mouth going dry and his conviction wavering.

"Am I?" Isabelle said, her voice almost mocking in its childish innocence "You have the abilities Sam, find out for yourself."

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sending his senses flaring out into the night. He focused his thoughts on Dean, sending them out for the familiar feel of his brother.

Sam's consciousness came upon Dean unexpectedly. Isabelle was right, he was on his way towards them as he was a lot closer than Sam had expected. Flaring his senses even further Sam felt a second presence; one that he was very familiar with, Hannah was with Dean.

She had either found him, or he had contacted her when Sam had left…however it had happened they were now together and they were headed this way. While distance was difficult to judge in this manner, Sam estimated that a couple of hundred miles still separated them.

Sam felt a burning sensation in his gut as anger flowed through him. He couldn't believe how unbelievably blind Dean was when it came to Hannah. She was bad news and he had told Dean on more than one occasion. He thought that their little run in at the rail yards in Spokane had finally shaken some sense into Dean, but it seemed that he was wrong.

He couldn't protect Dean from Hannah now that he was travelling with the _Vohu Manah_ and he certainly wasn't going to waste this opportunity to save Dean from his devil's pact just because his brother was too thick headed to listen to his advice.

"What do I have to do?" said Sam, his voice strangely devoid of emotion.

"Put him from your mind, shield yourself, try not to fixate your thoughts on him." was Isabelle's simply reply

That was certainly easier said than done; everything that was motivating Sam's actions now, was trying to save Dean. So Sam fed his anger, fuelled the burn in his gut and tried to get distance from Dean. He imagined in his mind's eye that he and Dean were connected by a string and he imagined taking a big knife to that string and severing it with one brutal stroke.

Sam's eyes flashed open. He felt it immediately, like a wound in his chest. He knew he had succeeded, knew that he had severed the unseen connection between he and his brother. He knew that he had to do it for both of their sakes, but he still wasn't happy about it. It felt wrong, like something within him had suddenly fallen out and he had no way of putting it back.

"Very good." said Isabelle quietly

"Now give me answers" demanded Sam, feeling the sudden burn of tears in his throat.

"Sleep now." said the girl "We'll speak more in the morning."

Sam wanted to protest, but his eye felt suddenly heavy and his body turned instantly leaden, despite fighting with all his will, Sam's head fell to the pillow and sleep pulled him under with single minded efficiency.

**

* * *

**

Cranmer, Utah – 2:25am

After an hour or so, Dean was starting to get used to the nuances of the sensations that he was feeling through the Doc. As she had fallen asleep her hand had relaxed in his, but he kept a firm hold of it in his lap.

As he drove Dean looked over to where the Doc slept. Her head rested on the headrest of the seat and her hair streamed out wild and loose over her shoulder. She looked ghostly pale in the dim light thrown back by Charlotte's headlights, but Dean's concern for her, was slowly ebbing away. He knew the much needed sleep was doing her the world of good – he could feel it through the connection they had forged in their united hands.

Unsure if it was his own instinct or something he was feeling from the Doc, Dean got the sudden impression that they were being watched. His gut tightened in anticipation and all of his senses went on high alert. He looked down the highway as far as he could and checked the rear view mirror, but they were alone on the road, so he started to slow down, with the intention of pulling over.

The Doc startled him when her head snapped up and her eyes flew open like she was instantly awake. Her hand instinctively closed around his with an almost bone breaking strength and in response, Dean jumped on the breaks bringing Charlotte to a tyre squealing halt.

Dean turned his eyes on the Doc in question, but she did not meet his gaze, taking a moment to look around herself. Obviously she felt as Dean had and the idea of being watched was making her singularly uncomfortable. Dean didn't have to watch her to figure that out, he felt it solidly in his mind like they were his own thoughts, but they were just alien enough for him to recognise that reaction was the Doc's, transmitted through their connected hands.

He felt Hannah rapidly close herself off from him; the psychic equivalent of having a door slammed in his face, so he shifted his grip from her hand to her arms and forcibly moved her so that she was looking him in the eye.

"What is it Doc? Talk to me!" Dean demanded, but he could read in Hannah's eyes that she was trying to protect him from something; something that was obviously causing her a lot of discomfort.

"Sam?" Hannah said aloud, but Dean knew that she wasn't answering him.

"Come on Doc, share it with me, let me try and talk to him." Dean's words came out harsh, more like an order than a request. He saw a moment of hesitation in Hannah's eyes, but ever the pragmatist, she closed her eyes, laid her hands on either side of his face and opened her mind to him.

Dean felt it then like a physical blow. This was no non-intrusive greeting, no psychic wave hello from the other side of the state, Sam was doing some serious reconnoitring and he wasn't being too gentle about it.

Dean was filled with anger, frustration and the shadowy sense of betrayal. He knew that it was coming from Sam, but he didn't understand why. Then he felt hostility, but he knew in his gut, it wasn't directed at him, it was directed at the Doc.

"Sammy" pleaded Dean, his confusion mounting. He couldn't understand the emotions coming from Sam. "Please, just tell me where you are?"

Dean felt a pinch, a small burn around his sternum and Hannah drew back with a gasp of surprise. Her hands where still on either side of his face, but now her eyes were open, and he could see panic and concern dancing in them.

"No Sam….Wait!" she cried.

Pain assaulted Dean with agonising brutality. I felt like someone was driving a hot nail through his chest. He heard Hannah pleading with Sam but her words were almost unintelligible through the pain. He gritted his teeth and bore down, but the Doc held on to him firmly and a fresh wave of pain poured into him like molten lead.

Dean felt Hannah put a hand over his chest and the pain eased for a moment, but realisation flooded him that she was sharing his burden and he tried to reef himself away from her hold to protect her from the agony…and then it was gone, like someone had flicked a switch and killed the current.

Dean opened his eyes to look at Hannah, her face was drawn and pale, but it was her eyes that had him truly worried.

"Oh Sam" she said with a combination of surprise and disappointment in her voice "What have you done?"

"What just happened?" asked Dean rubbing a hand over his chest. He felt strange, like something had been removed from behind his ribs with a pick axe.

The Doc met his gaze with eyes filled with sadness, confusion and worst of all….sympathy.

"Come on Doc…tell me!" demanded Dean "What just happened?"

In his mind he was picturing the worst possible scenario. Was Sammy dead? Had something happened to him while they had been separated?

"Damn it Doc….say something?"

Dean saw the Doc shy away from the ferocity of his words, but he couldn't help it. He was nearly beside himself with fear for his brother.

"I don't know?" Hannah said evenly, dowsing Dean's anger with her steady even tone.

"You know something Doc, or you wouldn't be looking at me like you just ran over my dog!" he all but yelled.

Hannah at least had the grace to look slightly guilt at his words but she held his gaze steadily for a long moment before she spoke.

"Understand Dean that I am just speculating here…."

"Doc!" he growled urging her with a subtle shake to get to the point.

Hannah looked at him guardedly, she didn't appreciate being man handled like that, but she understood that there were extenuating circumstances.

"You know that you and Sam have a connection right? A connection of blood and family that bonds you together?"

"Sure" replied Dean thinking back on the times when they had used the connection.

"Well, I can't be sure, but I think Sam just severed it."

Dean did a double take, thinking he had misheard what the Doc had just said.

"No" he said instinctively, not wanting to even consider the possibility "You're wrong."

His anger hit Hannah hard and she had to remind herself that deep down it wasn't directed at her. But none the less, her expression hardened and she sat back from him taking her hands off his face protecting herself a little from what she knew would come.

"You have to be wrong." Dean said angrily, his belly churning with acid and his shoulder burning with tension. "Sam wouldn't do that."

"I hope your right Dean." Hannah said evenly, and her calm non expressive tone just fuelled Dean's anger more.

"I am right…You don't know him" he yelled accusingly into Hannah's face, his temper flaring at the prospect of what she was saying. "He wouldn't do that" he repeated, again unsure of who he was trying to convince.

Suddenly, the car seemed entirely too small for Dean. There seemed to be no air inside and it felt like flames licked at his face. He threw open his door and climbed out into the cool night air slamming the door with more force than he intended. Their route through Utah had been taking them further up into the hills, and Dean watched as his breath frosted up in the frigid alpine air.

As he was pacing back and forth, Dean was vaguely aware of the Doc climbing out of the car too. He wanted to rail at her some more, to yell and scream the most vile obscenities at her for even suggesting such a thing, the only problem was, that deep down he knew she was probably right.

He felt a difference, in no true way that he could articulate, but it was certainly there. It was a blank place inside him, a strange void that he was trying to convince himself was just his imagination. He kicked at the stones on the shoulder of the road, needing some avenue to release the anger that was quickly turning into violence within him.

And when that didn't help, he stoped, hands on hips, letting his head drop forward as if it were far too heavy for his neck.

"Dean" Hannah said smoothly her voice gentle, but carefully devoid of emotion "What do you want to do now?"

"Get in the car Doc." Dean said bitterly, he was barely able to contain the anger that was coursing through him.

Wisely, Hannah kept her silence and simply did as he asked, slipping into Charlotte's passenger seat. Dean waited out in the cold for a few more minutes calming himself down and gathering his resolve. He was dangerously on the edge and he knew it. Taking a few deep breaths into his lungs he slipped back into the car and started the engine.

As he pulled back onto the highway, Dean kept the Doc in his periphery vision. She kept her focus on the road ahead of them and her face held a practiced mask of indifference. For some reason her ability to hold her composure when his world felt like it was falling apart, just infuriated him, and he could tell by the way that she kept herself carefully contained away from him as much as she could, that she knew exactly the effect that she was having.

Dean turned his attention back to the road and his thoughts turned to Sam. What if the Doc was right? What if Sam had severed their bond? Why on earth would he do something like that…after everything they had been through together. If he was honestly out there looking for a way that Dean might get out of his devils pact, why would he sever their bond…it just made no sense?

As Dean's thoughts tumbled around his head, he saw the sign to the Stillwater Lodge emerge like a beacon of light on the road ahead of him. It wasn't logic that made him turn off toward the motel but instinct. He was a hunter who had lost the trail of his quarry, a lifetime of training had taught him that the best thing to do was get some rest and try afresh in the morning.

Dean pulled Charlotte up in front of the dim light coming from the reception area and in a tone much harsher than he intended he told the Doc to stay put, before climbing out and heading for the reception foyer. Given that it was after 2am in the morning, a courtesy phone had been left on the counter and when Dean picked up the receiver, it dialled automatically.

After a few rings a sleepy voice suddenly came in on the other end of the phone.

"Good evening…Reception."

"I need a room." Dean said shortly turning back to look at where Charlotte was parked just outside.

"I will be right with you sir." said the man on the other end, sounding a lot more alert than a moment before.

Dean returned the phone receiver to the cradle of the phone and leant with his back to the reception desk. He could just make out the Doc where she sat in the darkness in Charlotte's passenger seat. She looked like a porcelain doll, sitting with such pale stillness. But the resemblance went beyond just the physical, there was also something fragile in the way she held herself, contained, close…like she was protecting herself.

Anger still boiled deep in Dean's gut, but it was steadily being overwhelmed by confusion, frustration and a disconcerting sense of loss. Now, as he looked at the Doc he would have to add guilt to his repertoire of competing emotions. She had done nothing more than try and help him, shield him from the full force of whatever just happened and he had come out of it swinging, ready to destroy anyone and anything around him.

She hadn't made Sam take off, she hadn't influence any of his choices, the Doc had just heard Dean's call for help and come running. Without her Dean would have found himself totally alone and to repay her he had just torn strips off her.

Dean's mental ass kicking was interrupted, when a tall broad shouldered man emerged through a door behind the reception desk.

"Good evening sir…or should I say good morning…how can we help you this evening."

Dean turned to meet the man's eye. He was the kind of guy who was bigger and stronger than the average guy, but a round jovial face seemed to detract from the fact that he was probably strong enough to pole drive even the toughest costumer into the ground without breaking a sweat. Dean tried to smile, but the gesture failed him and it looked more like a grimace.

"We just need a room. Anything that you've got would be fine."

The giant inn keeper smiled at Dean in something akin to understanding.

"Of course, how about you go ahead and fill this in right here and I'll get started checking you in."

As Dean accepted the small clipboard with the room registration on it, he handed the man a credit card, looking briefly at the name, so that he could be sure to sign the register with the correct pseudonym.

Dean moved the pen over the card, with muscle memory. He really had no idea what he was writing down, but as long as it matched the criteria on the card, no one would question it.

"Alright Mr Stanley" said the inn keeper with a smile that bought deep dimples to his round face "That should do it. I have put you around in room 22. If you drive past this main building and then take a right, it is in the middle of the short wing on the other side."

Dean signed the card and then the credit card slip and then taking the key from the big man, he nodded in thanks and headed back to the car.

Hannah didn't say a word as he slipped in to the car, and Dean knew that he should say something, but for the life of him, nothing appropriate entered his mind, so he too remained silent. He started Charlotte up and following the inn keepers directions he pulled up in front of the room they had been allocated.

As soon as the car came to a halt, Hannah climbed out and shut the door, not allowing Dean to say anything…even if he had something in mind to say. Dean sighed deeply and climbed out of the car too. Before joining the Doc over by the trunk he walked over to the motel room and opened up the door, switching on the light.

As he looked at the room, which was relatively nice in comparison to some of the places that he and Sam had stayed at, he realised that he had only gotten them one room. It had been habit that had been driving him, routine than made him ask for only one and as he looked around the room which was spacious, clean and well decorated…he wondered how the Doc would feel about sharing a room with him.

If she objected at all, Dean couldn't tell as he walked over to where she waited patiently by the trunk; she did not meet his eyes at all, keeping her gaze firmly on Charlotte. Dean opened the trunk and without waiting for him, Hannah moved in to pull out her bag.

"I got it" Dean managed to say, but he nearly winced as he heard the sharpness of his words in his own ears. What was with him …why couldn't he seem to open his mouth without snapping at her?

Hannah took a measured step back from the car, her face carefully blank, but her eyes seemed cold and aloof as they looked at him.

"Alright" she said in that calm even voice that made Dean want to scream at her, before turning on her heal and heading towards the room.

Dean turned his eyes heavenward for a moment, sucking the cold night air into his lungs before he reached into the trunk and pulled out his duffle bag and Hannah's luggage. He slung his duffle over her shoulder, ignoring the butt of the shotgun that bit into his back through the canvas bag and closed the trunk gently.

As she hung up her overcoat in the motel closet, Hannah heard Dean bring the bags in and shut the door behind him. She was trying not to let his anger and confusion get to her, because she understood that it wasn't really directed at her…but it still stung and the intrinsic instinct to protect herself had kicked in a little while ago and she had pulled her energy in tight, barricading herself in against the intensity of Dean's extreme emotions.

Not hearing any movement behind her, Hannah looked over her shoulder and saw Dean just standing inside the doorway. He had put the bags down on the floor beside his feet and he had stopped moving all together. He simply stared out at her and she wasn't sure if he was silently beseeching her for help or spoiling for a fight.

With a furrowed brow, Hannah headed towards him, mentally preparing herself for either outcome.

"Dean what is it?" she asked, careful to keep all the emotion out of her voice.

He watched her for a moment, his expression completely unreadable and then with lightning quick reflexes he reached out and grabbed her arm pulling her close to him. Hannah was about to protest, but his mouth was on hers before she could think, in a kissed that overwhelmed her in its ferocity.

Hannah clung to Dean's shoulders for support against the sudden assault. Even with all of her shields in place, the proximity and the intimacy of the kiss meant that Hannah could feel every emotion driving it. There was a deep well of anger inside of Dean, frustration, confusion, denial…a massive miasma of negative emotions tearing at the fundamentals of who he was.

But along side that, the Doc could also feel incredible fear and guilt riding Dean hard, the very core of who he was as a person and his purpose in the universe centred on his sense of family and loyalty and what Sam's actions had done was attack that. As Dean fought to re order his internal universe he had reached for an anchor, some source of stability in his chaotic internal battle….he had reached for her.

Hannah had been right in her initial assessment. This kiss was part attack, part apology…but it was whole heartedly a plea from Dean to be reminded that he was not alone. Hannah knew deep in her soul that she was strong enough to bare the brunt of his anger and she cared enough for him to want to reassure and comfort him. She would put all of her own fears and reservations aside and give Dean what he needed, so wrapping her arms around his neck, Hannah kissed him back.

Dean had no idea why he had kissed her. He had intended to say something, to apologise for his earlier actions…to make some eloquent statement and try and make her understand that he wasn't truly angry with her, simply at the possibilities that she had raised and the far reaching implications that they held for him, but words were Sammy's gift, not his.

He was a man of action, so he did the only thing that made sense to him. At first the Doc had seemed surprised, even resistant, but after a few moments, Dean had felt her arms snake around his neck and now she was meeting the passion of his kiss with passion of her own.

Dean had been unable to get the memory of the taste of her out of his head since he had kissed her farewell in Okalahoma, but now he was drowning in it and it was an all consuming ecstasy that was blessedly pushing aside every other thought in his mind.

He buried his fist in her hair, holding her to him as he moved his lips over hers. Her lips were warm and satiny and when he passed his tongue over them, they parted giving him access to warm recesses of her mouth. He had dreamed of this on more occasions than he cared to recall, but the reality was so far beyond anything that he imagined.

He felt the Doc's arms strain against his shoulders as she pulled herself closer still, pushing the swell of her breast against his chest, as she deepened their kiss. His lungs were aching for air, but he ignored that need as he revelled in the wonder of this woman's response to him.

He heard the rough growl come from his throat and felt himself losing all sense of control. Necessity made him pull away from her as he dragged much needed oxygen into his lungs. He held her eyes with his own as he breathed heavily and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

Dean had wanted to tell her that he was sorry for lashing out at her. Tell her that he had wanted her since the first moment that he had met her. He wanted to articulate somehow that as a man, who had seen a lot to be afraid of, the thing he feared most was losing his family and it was now coming to pass.

But he said nothing. He didn't have to...the Doc knew. He could see it in her eyes, in the subtle curl of her lips and feel it in the warmth of her hands on his body. Dean let the last of his restraint fall away as he leant back down and kissed her with such force her back arched, thrusting her breast forward into his chest.

She felt like she was scalding him every where their bodies met, but instead of shying away from the heat, Dean sort it out. He used his bigger body to herd her towards the wall and when he had backed her into it, he pressed his own body hard against her rejoicing in the rounded curves of her body.

Her hands upon his shoulder tugged at his leather jacket and dropping his arms back, even as he kissed her mouth, he shook himself out of the coat and let it fall discarded to the floor.

Dean felt desperate for her now, his mind losing every thought except getting closer to her. In an attempt to do just that, Dean pushed his knee between her legs, pushing his strong thigh hard against the juncture of her legs and he was gratified to hear the sharp intake of breath as he ground his thigh into her, feeling the curve of her hip against his aching length.

Kissing along her jaw and down her throat, Dean found the edge of the soft angora sweater that she was wearing and pulled is up, just enough that he could run his hand over the soft skin of her abdomen. He ran his lips over hers hungrily as he caressed her flesh.

Hannah had thought that she was ready for the onslaught that was Dean's desire, but she had been sorely mistaken. She was alive with sensation, not only from his lips and the hands that were steadily caressing her rib cage towards her heavy breasts, but also from the thoughts that filled Dean's mind.

Not only was she feeling the pleasure of her own body, but the intimacy of their contact left Dean's thoughts wide open to her, and the man had something of an imagination when I came to all the things he wanted to do to her. On top of that, he was so engrossed in his own physical pleasure, that his mind was broadcasting it so loud, Hannah couldn't have kept it out if she had wanted do.

What she felt both in her body and her mind defied language. It could never be explained only experienced and she had never experienced anything like it before in her life. Hannah had not been with a man since her talents had emerged, but now that she was, she was eager to share the benefits of her extra senses. So she opened her mind to Dean to share everything that she felt with him.

Dean pulled the beige sweater up and over Hannah's head, revealing a stunning satin bra, the colour of deep bronze. He took a moment to appreciate the garment as it lay on Hannah's creamy white skin, then kissing the swell of her breast; he reached behind her and deftly undid that clasp holding the lingerie on.

As his lips came in contact with her flesh, Dean felt an alien thrill rush through him, both in his mind and in the pit of his stomach. He paused for a second wondering at the strange sensation, but as he slid the bra from her shoulders he lost all capacity for thought as her perfectly full breasts were freed.

Dean tossed the bra carelessly away and immediately went to strip off his shirt and t-shirt desperate to feel the Doc pressed against him, flesh against flesh. His shirt and tee soon followed the bra and he gathered the Doc close feeling the satin softness of her skin against his own.

As he kissed her, all of his sense felt intensified, like someone had thrown up a mirror against his desires and were reflecting them back to him. He deepened his kiss and felt a pleasure run down his spine the likes of which he had never known.

The Doc, ground her pelvis against his aroused flesh and not only did he feel the heady pleasure of the friction created between their bodies, Dean also felt the subtle female satisfaction that the Doc felt at giving him pleasure.

Dean broke off their kiss, his eyebrows raised high into his hairline as he let his mind examine the subtle difference in the sensations that he was feeling. He had done this a lot, but not once had he ever felt what he did when he was touching the Doc.

He blinked at her a couple of times, his mind adjusting to the new stimuli that it was receiving and then he leant in and kissed her with renewed fervour. Dean knew what she wanted from him, he could anticipate her every desire and he could feel not only with his mind but also with his body what was fuelling her desires.

As he struggled with the waistband of the Doc's trousers, Dean knew that he had lost any hopes of holding on to his control and as he eased her trousers over her hips, dragging her matching satin panties with them, his only thought was getting inside her.

In a gesture of strength and desperation, Dean caught the Doc under her legs and carried her over towards the bed. He laid her down on the green patterned bedspread and stood back for a moment. His eyes travelled over the auburn hair that fanned out around her, he followed the curve of her neck, down the swell of her breast over her flat abdomen, along the curve or her hip and down her shapely legs.

He had always thought the expression 'to be breathless with anticipation' was just some god awful cliché, but as he struggled to breathe just looking at her, he understood it now. Lacking grace and coordination Dean pulled off his boots and hastily worked at the clasp of his jeans, eager to join the Doc on the bed.

As he kicked the leg of his jeans off, Dean stretched out on the bed next to the Doc, quickly gathering her close and kissing her deeply, as if the separation had been more than he could bear.

Hannah could not believe the diverse sensation that touching him bought up in her. His skin was warm and soft to the touch, but the rows of muscle beneath her fingers where hard, and as she ran her hand over them, they flexed involuntarily. She kissed the groan from Dean's lips as she ran her hands over his sculptured abdomen and chest.

Dean was learning to read the Doc and he set up a caress that complimented her own. His hand started on the side of her face and made a steady trail down her neck. He followed the line of muscle down her throat and traced his sure fingers across her collar bone; then slowly but firmly he ran his hand over one of her round firm breasts and as he rubbed over her pert nipple with his thumb, she arched into his hand greedily urging on the ministration.

Both were startled by the sheer intensity of the sensation of skin against skin. The heat of it re-sparked a flame that had been on slow burn for a brief period and they kissed each other with a renewed need.

Dean let his hand travel down the flat plains of the Doc's stomach and when he hit the soft auburn curls between her legs he let his fingers tangle themselves there for a moment.

Gently Dean rubbed strong fingers over the folds of her female flesh and he couldn't help but feel the Doc arching her pelvis towards the pressure of his hand. With the greatest of dexterity he slid a finger in between the folds of flesh to the slick flesh underneath and his little gesture tore Hannah's lips away from his own as a moan erupted from her. He felt her shiver as he worked his fingers back and forth.

Dean felt tension building between them as he touched the Doc and he understood on an instinctual level that the Doc was on the verge of orgasm. The only problem with that was that Dean was aroused beyond anything he had ever experienced in the past and if the Doc went over, she would surely pull him with her and he was just not ready for this union to be over just yet.

He could feel the subtle sense of disappointment as he pulled his hand away from her, but Dean didn't let the Doc dwell on what she had lost, instead he rolled on top of her replacing his hand with his aching arousal. Dean kissed down the Doc's throat in a way that he could feel drove her wild and at the peak of her pleasure he pushed forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in her tight flesh.

'Holy fuck' Dean muttered to himself, not really intending to swear but figuring that was a better option to bursting into tears, which is what he actually wanted to do.

Dean had never felt anything quite like it in his life. It was true, the Doc was hot and tight around him, but as he pushed into her, he was also assaulted with the intense desire that she had been harbouring for him, her need to comfort him when his fears got the better of him and her unconditional loyalty to him. Wherever he went, she would always have his back without question.

He held still, letting every sensation and nuance wash over him. When he finally opened his eyes, steel grey eyes met his and he smiled at her, dropping down on his elbows so that he could kiss her. He started to move inside her, intending to take it slow, but the amplified sensations would never let him take his time. They stoked the fires of he lust to such a point that within a few minutes he was a slave to his own bodies desires and was quickly reaching fever pitch.

He felt the Doc, tense around him, clenching him in a velvet grip that was almost agony, and then he was lost, joining her in the freefall that was their united bliss. Dean lay spent on top of the Doc, shell-shocked from what he had just experienced. He had been exceedingly careful in his life to keep sex and emotion completely separate, but with the Doc he just wasn't able to do that…and what frightened him more was, he wasn't sure he even wanted to.

With the greatest of care, Dean rolled over taking the Doc with him so that she ended up spread across his chest. Then with an arm that was clumsy in its languor, Dean pulled the bedspread over them, cocooning them as best as he was able while they were still on top of the bed clothes.

Neither Hannah nor Dean spoke, words seeming grossly insufficient after what was shared between them. Dean stroked back the tangle of Hannah's hair tucking her head under his chin. He could feel her pulse in counter rhythm to his own and he let his breathing fall into the time signature set up between them.

After a long comfortable silence, Dean's mind turned to Sam and again Dean was plagued with thoughts of his brother's actions. Had he truly severed his ties with the Winchester family?

"Get some sleep Dean" said Hannah sleepily running a gentle hand over Dean's chest.

Dean sighed not meaning to have disturbed the Doc, but seeing that she was still awake he couldn't resist asking her. "Why do you think he did it?"

Hannah pushed up on her arms so that she could meet Dean's eyes. "I don't think he did it of he own volition Dean, your brother loves you more than anything in this world."

"You think he could have been forced?" asked Dean, his voice sounding strangely hopefully.

"I wouldn't have said forced" said Hannah settling in to the crook of Dean's arm "But manipulated into it…definitively."

Hannah's words shouldn't have made Dean feel better, but somehow they did. To think that Sam was not entirely responsible for his actions sat a little better on Dean's conscience than believing that his brother had done it with malicious intent.

"I should get the light." Dean said pushing up from the bed.

"Uhhhh" Hannah protested "Don't move – I'll get the light."

With that the room was plunged into darkness. Dean laughed slightly and placed a kiss to Hannah's forehead…there were certainly benefits to sharing a room with a psychic.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Those of Good Purpose – Chapter 2**

**Day 285**

**Cranmer, Utah – 7:57am**

Dean awoke feeling a horrible constriction across his body. He lifted his head from the pillow and found himself alone in the bed intricately tangled within the dishevelled bed clothes. He looked around the darkened room and spotted the clock on the bedside table shining with the glow of the lime green LCD.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he searched the darkness of the room. The Doc was not in the bed with him and when he couldn't immediately see her, he felt a panic fill him. Had she left him here in this hotel like Sam?

Dean sat up in the bed, reaching for the bedside lamp as he looked in all the darkened corners of the room. His heart was in his mouth as he looked around. Had he done something wrong? Did he cross a line last night that they should never have crossed?

He spotted the Doc's luggage by the door and felt the vice like sensation in his chest ease a little.

Then Dean heard the door to the bathroom and he turned just as the Doc walked out. He felt his breath stutter momentarily so great was his relief. She smiled at him, her eyes a little too knowing for his comfort.

"Good morning" she said, her voice running over his skin like sun warmed silk.

"Morning" he replied watching as she walked around and sat down on the edge of the bed.

She had obviously showered, washed and straightened her hair, because it hung in a smooth fall of dark fire down her back. Her hair was beautiful and highly sophisticated like this, but in all honesty, Dean liked it best when it was a wild untamed mane of curls, like it had been last night.

The Doc wore a stylish pair of black jeans and a rust coloured turtle neck sweater that clung to all of the luscious curves of her body like a second skin. Under her arm she carried an aged leather bound book.

"Thought I'd done a runner, did you?" she asked with a smile.

"That's what I normally do after sex" Dean scoffed, desperately trying to conceal the very real fear that still lingered deep in his mind.

At his words, Dean saw the Doc stiffen slightly. It was the slightest of movements, but it was enough to let him know that the Doc was feeling as vulnerable as he was, but for a whole set of different reasons. Something about that made Dean smile. It was almost comforting to know, that in spite of all her gifts and all of her extra sensory perception that the Doc was still vulnerable to that most human of traits….doubt.

"If you need to keep going on your own Dean, I'll understand."

The Doc's voice was carefully even, but the seriousness in her tone betrayed her own fear. Dean smiled at her, a subtle curving of his lips as he reached and brushed a long silken strand away from her face, dragging his fingertips along the softness of her cheek.

"I said that's what I normally do Doc." he said with a hint of humour in his voice. "I think we can both agree that there is nothing normal about the situation that we find ourselves in."

There was so much meaning caged carefully in those words. So much that they insinuated but didn't actually say, but all of Hannah's thoughts disappeared as soon as Dean pressed his soft lips to hers.

Dean felt his body react keenly to his contact with the Doc and it was more than just his standard male 'wakeup call'. He had always thought that once the delicacy had been tried, his hunger for it would be sated somewhat and the second taste would never be as intense as the first.

But as he kissed the Doc, felt her pliant lips part slightly under his own, he was quickly reviewing that philosophy. Memories of the previous night flooded through him feeding his anticipation. Dean knew on a very primal level that he had a promise of ecstasy with this woman and that on its own would always bring intensity greater than any frantic first time copulation possibly could.

Dean felt heat building between them and he found that all he wanted to do was tumble the Doc over on to the bed and burry himself deep inside of her. But something stayed that instinct. It hung in his mind like the shadow of a storm cloud…he had to find Sam.

As if sensing the hesitation, Hannah broke their kiss and smiled as Dean rested his forehead against hers panting slightly. Searching for any kind of distractions, he reached out slightly and touched the book that was still tucked under the Doc's arm.

"I generally prefer Sports Illustrated for my bathroom literature" he said, a smile curving his lips "But each to their own."

Hannah smiled at his words, pulling back so that she could look him in the eye.

"Your right, it isn't my standard fair, but I thought I might find something in it to help us find Sam."

Dean eyed the book as the Doc bought it forward from under her arms. Runes that he couldn't identify had been branded in the old leather of the front cover, and the parchment had been stained a dirty yellow colour through time.

"A Grimoire?" he asked more of a statement than a question.

Hannah nodded looking down at the book, then back at Dean.

"So I take it that you don't have that feeling anymore pulling you south?" Dean had to ask, but he already knew the answer. The Doc knew that he knew it too and she smiled at him, caressing his cheek gently with her fingertips.

"I think it is reasonable to assume that the thing pulling me south was Sam, even if he was doing it unintentionally. I haven't sensed anything since he visited us in the car."

Dean noted with both interest and gratitude that the Doc was very careful not to state what had exactly happened in the car. He was dealing with it in his own way and in his own time, but it was like a fresh wound, still weeping and sore.

"So you find anything in there that might help?"

"Maybe"

Dean watched as Hannah's face become suddenly serious, and he knew without needing to be told, that she had indeed found something, but it was probably going to be very dangerous.

"Come on Doc" he said pushing himself up in the bed so that he could rest his back against the headboard "Isn't that like being a little bit pregnant? You either have or you haven't?"

Hannah couldn't help smiling at Dean's black and white view of the situation. It was true that she had found something, but she wasn't even sure if she could make it work…and even if she could it would be incredibly dangerous.

"Alright" she said, caution making her elongate her words "I have found a scrying spell that may let us use a mirror to be able to see Sam. If we can get it going we might be able to see something that will give us some clue as to where he is."

"But…" prompted Dean, knowing that the Doc hadn't told him everything.

"But, if we can see him, he'll be able to see us, and with his power he'll be able to shut us down as soon as he becomes aware of it. We would only get a second or two at the most…and"

Dean waited as the Doc seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"And…" he prompted again watching her closely.

Hannah took a deep breath as if she was considering exactly what words she was going to use.

"And" she finally said "the amount of power and the nature of the power that this spell is drawing on, will make us light up like a roman candle on the psychic radar or any demon in the surrounding area."

"And that's a problem why?" questioned Dean

"Well, until the magnified energy of the spell dissipates, we'll be the equivalent of a worm on a big old demon hook."

"Alright" said Dean with a subtle shrug "So we destroy the grimoire when we are done with the spell."

Hannah nodded "Yes…I considered that as well, but I don't think it would help. This sort of magic marks the spell caster as much as the grimoire. Even if we did destroy the book, I think both you and I would still come across like a cup cake to a fat kid for any demon that crossed our path. And I can pretty much guarantee that they will find us. They won't be able to resist it."

Dean sighed heavily. He had found a brief spark of hope at the beginning of this conversation, but the more the Doc spoke, the more hopeless this option seemed.

"How long do the affects last?"

Hannah met his eyes and shook her head slightly "I don't know?" she said.

"And by surrounding area, you mean…." questioned Dean

"It depends on how long the connection lasts" Hannah said, rubbing at her chin and throat with an agitated hand. "If it is only for a second or so, then I don't know… maybe just the demons in this state. If it lasts longer, then we could be looking at all the demons in this country, the northern parts of Mexico and the southern parts of Canada."

"Great" Dean said rubbing both of his hands over his stubbled face. "Ultra high risk for tiny, possibly no return."

"Without it, what else do we have?" asked Hannah in a voice that Dean recognised as her reasoning analytical voice. She wasn't making an emotive appeal, she was looking for the facts so that she could make and informed decisions, and it was just the focus that Dean needed to stop himself going off half cocked and endangering them both.

"We know that Sam's last known position is to the south of us." Dean said watching Hannah's face closely.

"And we know that we can find Rimmon if we need to." Hannah's lips thinned into a single grim line. "That's not much"

"How long do you think you would need to set this ….scrying thing up?"

Hannah considered that for a moment. "If we can get the things we need, setting up is just a matter of minutes."

Dean thought for a long moment, weighing up their options. He could see in the Doc's face that she had already made her mind up about what she thought they should do, but bless her, she was keeping silent and waiting for Dean.

"I'll have a quick shower and then we'll hit the road. Let's keep heading south for the moment and see if that gets us anywhere. We'll pick up what we need for the spell along the way and if we hit a dead end by this afternoon, we cast it."

Hannah smiled, admiring the decisive and quick way that Dean had formulated their plan of action.

"Sounds like a plan."

"Well you never know." said Dean leaning out of the bed to grab at his discarded jeans and boxer shorts "We may get lucky and Sam will call us and tell us exactly where he is."

"Or" replied Hannah, watching as Dean slipped into his boxers "Sam is so cranky that I'm with you, that he turns around from where ever he's going and comes looking for us."

Dean climbed out of the bed, pulling Hannah to her feet as he stood "Stranger things have happened."

"Yes they have" she said looking up into his face with a rye smile on her lips.

Dean's arms snaked out to gather the Doc close and he pulled her hard against his body as he kissed her passionately, almost desperately.

"Now that's how we say good morning where I'm from." he said when they broke apart, and he couldn't help but revel in the way the Doc's arms clung to his shoulders as if she needed his support to stand.

"Well that must make family breakfasts in Kansas just that little bit awkward." Hannah responded in a flippant tone, and Dean couldn't help the bubble of laughter that burst up through his throat.

He kissed her a second time, running his lips gently over hers and then kissing either cheek.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to have another shower, could I?" Dean's voice had turned husky as he whispered against Hannah's ear.

"They do say that cleanliness is next to godliness." she said against his lips and then she kissed him whole heartedly, her arms tightening around his neck.

Dean was instantly ablaze with feeling, like someone has doused him with lighter fluid and then dropped a Zippo at his feet. He could hear blood pump in his ears and his erection was pressed intimately against the Doc's belly.

Needing to feel the touch of her skin against his own, Dean reached for the Doc's sweater and pulled it up over her head. Again she wore the bronze satin bra, but Dean made short work of that, kissing and biting each of her ears and he pulled the straps from her shoulder.

As he ran his fingers down her arms, Dean felt a rough patch on the Doc's bicep that felt wholly out of place next to the velvet softness of her skin. Curiosity made him lift his head and he cooled his libido for long enough to take a good look at her arm. He was surprised to find that it was covered in a clear wound dressing that was a solid two inches thick and three of four inches long.

Dean's brows drew together as he inspected what looked like an over sized band-aid.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked, stepping away from her and holding out her arm for inspection.

Hannah lifted her shoulders in a subtle shrug "It is just a scratch from the rail yard, nothing serious."

"You had this last night?" Dean asked in surprise "How come I didn't notice it?"

Hannah gave him something of a coy smile "Well you were a little preoccupied."

Despite Hannah's efforts to keep things light and playful, Dean's mood had shifted quickly, the burning lust that he had been feeling had changed rapidly to a fierce protectiveness.

"May I?" Dean asked as he ran his fingernail under the sticky edge of the dressing.

"If you like" she replied and watched as he gently pealed back the dressing to reveal the long angry welt underneath.

Dean inspected the wound, recognising it for what it was immediately. The skin had a bloodied graze on it the thickness of his little finger and the edges of the wound had tiny little blisters and black spots of burnt flesh consistent with powder burns. From the looks of this, the Doc had narrowly escaped catching a bullet in her arm.

Hannah could see the thunderous look on Dean's face as he inspected the wound. In an attempt to alleviate his fear she tried to make a joke of it. "Some of those bullets can be slippery little suckers."

Dean's eyes met hers and they were hard, full of barley repressed anger.

"Half an inch to the left Doc, and you could have lost the use of this arm."

Hannah smiled gently at Dean, laying her free hand against his cheek.

"Half and inch to the right and it would have missed me completely."

Dean gently re-stuck the dressing over the wound and pulled the Doc into his arms. In his embrace the Doc could feel all of the emotions coursing through the man she held against her.

He was angry that she had been injured, furious that it had been Sam who had done it and ashamed that he had been unable to do anything to prevent it.

"It's all right Dean" Hannah said gently running her hand over the soft hair at the nape of his neck "I'm not made of glass."

Dean didn't respond, but Hannah could sense his resolve to keep her safe. She didn't argue with him. She knew it would be pointless, but she also knew that they were in a war, and in war people got hurt all the time. It would just have to be something that Dean learned to live with.

When Dean kissed her, it was not with the all consuming hunger that his touch had been earlier, it was instead with a slow resolute tenderness. His touch and his hands dominated her, reminding Hannah of their difference in size, and he handled her with infinite gentleness, which in itself had an intoxicating sensual appeal.

As they kissed and caressed each other, a slow burning desire built between their bodies. It was languid and smouldering, but there was a hint of danger to it, almost as if all it would take would be a small catalyst and they would burst into flames and consume each other.

As Dean kissed down the soft flesh of the Doc's neck, he marvelled at the human mind. The Doc was naked…so, for that matter, was he; but he had no recollection of when the clothes had come off, no memory of the logistics of how they had come off, all he could feel was the satin bliss of the Doc's body moving against his own.

Dean ran his hand over the Doc's hip and down her thigh. He caught the Doc's leg just behind her knee and lifted it gently so that her leg curled up over his hip, opening her thighs slightly so that he could rub his aching erection against the soft cradle of her body.

As he had the night before, Dean could feel all of the Doc's physical responses as if they were his own. And he knew by the way she ground her pelvis rhythmically against his erection, that she too could feel what was driving him wild.

Dean felt the Doc's arms tighten around his shoulders, then using the leg that was wrapped around his hips, she lifted her other leg from the floor and wrapped it around his waist too. Dean's arms wrapped under her bottom to support her, and once she was balanced, the Doc lifted in her hips and positioned the head of Dean's erection at her slick opening.

She lowered herself just and inch and then tightened the grip of her thighs around Dean's hips, so that she was balanced with only the tip of his cock inside of her. With the Doc wrapped firmly around him, Dean moved towards the bathroom, every step towards it making the Doc sink further down his throbbing manhood, so by the time Dean had reached the door, he was seated to the hilt deep within her body and groaning deep in his chest like a tolling church bell.

Dean managed to get the water flowing, and then making sure that it wasn't too hot, he stepped underneath the spray and allowed the warm liquid to flow over them. Both he and Hannah were motionless for a few moments as they indulged in the warmth of the water and the sensuous feel of it running over their bodies, but the need to move inside of her finally overwhelmed Dean, and he pushed the Doc's body against the tiled wall of the shower cubicle, thrusting as deeply as he could inside of her as he did so.

The Doc gasped and turned her face towards the spray of water. This made her hair wet and it flowed between their bodies like fine strands of silk. With the Doc braced against the wall, Dean was able to lean back slightly so that he could look at where their bodies joined, he could follow the tracks of water as it ran down her face and over the swell of her breasts and he could see the expressions of pleasure that moved across the Doc's beautiful face.

In life the Doc could be reserved with others to the point of appearing austere, but as a lover, Dean realised that all of her reactions were honest expressions of the deep seated passion that coursed through her. She could no more stifle the moans that flowed from the depths of her chest than she could stop breathing. And every sound drove Dean to thrust harder and deeper…trying to get as close to her as humanly possible.

It was sublime, the warm water spilling over them, the combined sounds of their passion, the liquid slick flesh over flesh. Dean wasn't by nature and exhibitionist but just this once he prayed that there were people in the rooms next to them, just so they would be driven mad with envy.

In the pit of his stomach Dean felt the strange dipping sensation that likes of which he normally felt when riding roller coasters and he new that heralded that the Doc was close. He kept his rhythm steady, holding her hips and thrusting into her as he focused on the foreign sensations that he was feeling.

He had learnt last night that a woman's orgasm was an entirely different sensation to a man's. A man's was like dropping a match to a stick of dynamite. The build up was like watching the wick burn away and you always new the explosion was inevitable.

A woman's orgasm was a lot like woman. It was elusive and made you stretch and work for the ultimate goal. The only thing that Dean could acquaint it with was like standing on the edge of a building right at that point of overbalancing. There is always a second or two where your body wavers and your arms flail and you think you may just make it back up to the top, but generally that is right before you overbalance and fall to ground below.

Dean could feel the Doc reaching for that elusive feeling. He could feel it in the tightening of the muscles around his cock. Hear it in the short sharp intakes of breath and sense it in his mind, that grasping almost lucid thought. He let the Doc waver for a moment, and right when she was on the brink, he thrust hard pumping his hips and pushing her over the threshold into pleasure.

The Doc screamed involuntarily, unable to muffle the evidence of her ecstasy. It was that, which nearly pushed Dean over, that wild abandonment of control from a woman who prided herself on her ability to maintain control at all times.

Dean didn't want to join the Doc just yet, he wanted to feel all of her sensations untainted by his own pleasures, so her clapped down on his instinct, controlling his body to hold off on the thing that it wanted to do most in the world. As the aftershocks shook the Doc, it certainly wasn't easy.

Dean stilled looking at the Doc as she reclined against the tiled wall. When she opened her eyes to meet his gaze, their colour had shifted from their usual steel grey to the molten mercury that he acquainted with her gifts.

She smiled at him. A lazy smile full of mystery and mischief, then he felt her internal muscles stroking the throbbing length of his manhood. On the outside the Doc barely moved, but internally she was milking him gently, stimulating every inch of him and Dean nearly lost the battle with his control.

The Doc's smiled seemed to grow a little, as if by not succumbing Dean was issuing her with some kind of challenge. She tensed the muscles in her thighs, and lifted herself up Dean's throbbing length and began a slow ride, thrusting her hips in time to the throbbing pulse that she could feel through his erection.

Dean's breath caught in his throat, and his body began to move of its own volition. He was desperately trying to hold himself back, but the Doc was dragging him to the precipice and any moment now he knew he would tumble helplessly over.

Then Dean felt a caress across his testicles and his eyes snapped open to meet the Doc's. Her smile grew, and he could see in those thought filled eyes that she had just discovered a new application for her telekinetic ability.

Again Dean felt his testicles being caressed, a gentle unseen hand running over his balls and stimulating the sensitive flesh at the base of his penis. A strangled groan was all he could manage before he lost the iron grip on his control and began thrusting into the Doc's welcoming sheath with blind passion.

His orgasm ripped through him, making him shudder with a knee weakening intensity. On the periphery of his senses he was aware that the Doc had joined him on his freefall and that just made the moment even more perfect.

Breathing hard, Dean had to put his hands on the wall, to stop himself from sinking to the tiled floor of the shower. Doc relieved him of her weight, unwinding her legs from around his waist and standing in the arc created by his arms.

Dean looked at her, water running down his face and over his shoulders. He smiled feeling slightly shell shocked by the intensity of his experience. He hadn't dreamed that anything could have possibly topped the feelings and sensation that he had felt last night, but he was incredibly happy to be proved wrong.

"We really need to get going don't we?" said Dean with strong disappointment in his voice as he rested his brow against the Doc's

"I'm afraid so" said the Doc tilting her head back and kissing him, ignoring the water that ran over her face and into her eyes.

"Damn it" Dean muttered under his breath. "When we have found Sam and I have given him an appropriate ass kicking…we are so coming back here." he said as he reached for the soap. "I think this has just become my most favourite motel in the state…Hell! I might even go so far as to say the entire country"

Once the pair had focused on the task of getting cleaned up, it didn't take them long in the shower. Hannah dried off and let Dean have the bathroom so he could shave and went out to bedroom to hunt down the clothes that had been abandoned earlier.

When Dean emerged fifteen minutes later with a towel wrapped around his hips, the Doc was already clothed, her makeup had been reapplied and she was finishing straightening her long hair. In fact, with the exception of the few sections of damp hair, the Doc didn't look any different than when Dean had first seen her this morning.

"Huh" muttered Dean as he fished in his duffle for a clean change of clothes "I thought women were supposed to take hours getting ready?"

Hannah smiled at him, watching him change through the reflection in the mirror as she pulled the straightener down a long damp section of her hair.

"It was tough, but through years of intense training, I have managed to hone it down to a fine art."

"I can see that." he replied pulling a t-shirt over his head. "So what are we going to need for this spell? We should probably make a list so we can pull over and find the stuff."

"There is nothing too out of the ordinary. Candles, a votive bowl preferably made of silver, a sharp knife, a small animal."

Dean baulked as he slipped his arm into the sleeve of his shirt. "A small animal!...Oh I so hope that in not for what I think its for."

Hannah looked at Dean through the reflection in the mirror, her eyes becoming very serious. "This isn't pretty Hollywood magic, this is the dirty, dangerous, blood sacrificing black arts magic."

"I know." said Dean repacking his duffle "But a small animal? Damn!"

"Well the spell originally called for the flesh of a newborn baby, but thankfully later practitioners had left a note in the margin that said that an animal sacrifice was enough to get the spell to work."

Having finished drying and straightening her hair, Hannah unplugged her straightener and left it on the small vanity to cool down. She turned and watched Dean as he carried his duffle and put it on the floor by the door near her own luggage.

She wanted to confess to him how afraid she was of delving into this sort of darkness, she wanted to tell him how the dark entity that she kept trapped within her mind howled with delight at the mere prospect of feeling that surge of dark power. But instead she went and fetched her coat from the motel closet slipping it over her shoulders.

Her pride would never allow her to limit Dean's options of finding his brother just because she was afraid. That didn't mean however that she wasn't praying for something to occur before that time came, that would give her a reprieve from having to re-immerse herself into the shadowy workings of a grimoire.

"Alright, you good to go?" asked Dean looking at her from the door.

"Absolutely" Hannah replied gathering up her hand bag and picking up the hair straightener off the vanity.

Dean carried the bags out to Charlotte, who gleamed in the bright morning sunshine. Hannah paused at the door looking around at the motel. They had arrived under the cover of darkness and she hadn't really gotten a good look at the place. As she looked around now at the pleasant country style inn that was surrounded by woodland, she had to agree with Dean. This was beautiful little place and she would definitely enjoy coming back here.

"Still happy for me to drive?" asked Dean as he closed the trunk and jingled the car keys.

Hannah smiled, shielding her eyes against the glare of the morning sun. "If I said no, would that stop you?"

Dean smiled back at her enjoying the companionable banter "Probably not."

"Well then, I guess I'm still happy to let you drive." she replied before moving to the passenger's door "But I get to pick the music."

Dean moved up to the driver's door. "Now hold on a minute." he said watching the Doc across Charlotte's roof. "The driver always gets to choose the tunes…it's the rules."

Hannah gave a careless shrug "My car….my rules."

"Can't argue with that" muttered Dean as he unlocked his door "But something tells me I'm going to regret this."

"Oh Yee of little faith." Hannah said with a smile.

The pair slipped into Charlotte's sun warmed interior, and Dean turned the engine over, letting Charlotte idle for a minute before heading off. They pulled up in front of the reception office and Dean slipped out of the car, leaving the Doc to plug her iPod into the cars stereo system.

As Dean pushed through the door to the reception office, he spotted the big inn keeper that had helped in the early hours of the morning.

"Morning Sir." said the big man, whose large plaid flannel shirt made him look a little like Rufus Ruffcut from the Wacky Races.

"Morning" said Dean with a smile desperately trying to avoid making any reference to Sawtooth or the Buzz Wagon.

"Might I say" said the big man in a conspiratorial stage whisper "You look all the better for having a bit of a rest. I was a little bit worried about you when you pulled in last night."

"Yeah" said Dean, surprised slightly by the sincerity on the inn keepers face "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to get you out of bed"

"Don't even give it a second thought." said the big man with a chuckle the rumbled around his chest. "So you'll be leaving us today then?"

"Yes thanks."

"A shame." said the inn keeper wistfully "It is such a beautiful day and there is so much to see in this area."

"Well you certainly have a great place here" Dean said handing back the room keys to the inn keeper's meaty fist. "Great showers." he added with perhaps too much enthusiasm.

"Thanks" said the inn keep slightly quizzically "If I get you just to sign here, then we should be all set to go."

"Actually" said Dean as an afterthought "Do you mind if I settle up in cash?"

"Of course not, sir" said the inn keeper blinking rapidly as if the prospect of anyone paying cash in this day and age was almost unheard of.

Dean fished some bills from his wallet and handed them over to the big man. He honestly did want to come back here some day and somehow he didn't think leaving an unpaid tab with a fraudulent credit card would go down well with this man mountain.

"There you go Sir, your receipt and your change."

"Thanks" said Dean accepting the change and stuffing it in his pocket. "Have a good day." he said as he left.

"You too sir" said the inn keeper "And drive safe."

Dean walked out of the office, waving over his shoulder at the big man who stood behind the desk waving like an animatronic lumberjack from Frontier Land.

Opening up the driver's door, Dean slipped in behind the wheel and started Charlotte up again. As power hit the stereo, the system came to life and the gritty heavy opening riff of Led Zeppelin's 'Whole Lotta Love' was piped into the car through five different speakers and a sub woofer.

"Oh" said Dean his face breaking into a smile of complete joy "The '_Zep'_…How did you know?"

Hannah smiled, her fingers tapping the beat out on the arm rest of her door. "I must be psychic or something."

Dean shot her a Cheshire cat smile, then throwing Charlotte in gear he headed off towards the highway.

**

* * *

**

Day 285

**Kayenta, Arizona – 9:41am**

Sam looked at his watch as he filled the Pick-up with gas. Isabelle had gotten them up fairly early that morning, but Mel had somehow manage to complain and drag her feet enough that they hadn't left the motel in Utah until well after 8am.

They had driven through the spectacular Monument Valley, but Sam had been unable to derive any joy from their scenic surrounds. In spite of his best efforts his thoughts seemed to be fixed on Dean and the strange separation that he now felt from his brother. Sam couldn't explain it, he just felt wrong. He didn't trust his travelling companions and he had never felt more isolated in his entire life.

What was worse, was that Isabelle had still not told him where they were heading, despite all of her assurances that she would, so he was travelling blind forced to trust a temperamental teenager and a demon in the body of an angelic child.

The fuel nozzle clicked, breaking Sam out of his reverie. He hung the heavy nozzle back in the pump and then headed to the cab of the truck.

"You want anything from inside?" he asked looking at the two girls who still watched him with wary eyes.

"A Coke and a Hershey Bar." said Mel in that pubescent voice that was both vaguely belligerent and painfully patronising.

"Ahh…the breakfast of champions." Sam muttered acerbically "Isabelle?"

The elfin little girl looked at him with her age wearied eyes, "No thankyou." she said in her careful well formed words.

Sam nodded "Alright, I'm just going to pay for this then I'll hit the John and we'll head out. We won't need gas for a while, so Mel if you gotta go…go now."

Sam didn't wait for the churlish response that he knew would come in his direction; he just headed for the shop. He pulled out his wallet and noticed that he was running dangerously low on cash. Isabelle, had better have some way for pulling cash out of thin air because very soon he was going to be forced to use one of his many aliased credit cards and as soon as he did, there would be a trail for Dean to follow, which is the last thing that he wanted.

Sam fetched Mel's requested food also grabbing a coke for himself, then he went up to the counter and handed the attendant the cash.

"Can I have the restroom key too please?" he asked as the attendant handed back his change.

Shrugging, the attendant reached under the counter and produced a beat up hub cap that had a key attached to it by a mangled wire coat hanger. Sam took the hub cap unable to keep from being amused at the rather rudimentary anti theft device.

He headed back to the pick-up passing the cokes and the candy bar in through the window; then he headed off to the restrooms, trying not to look back over his shoulder at the unearthly eyes that he could fell boring into his back.

Sam unlocked the restroom and the locked himself inside. It wasn't a particularly big bathroom but thankfully it was clean, and it afforded him the privacy of what he needed to do.

Pulling his cell phone from his pocket he switched it on. He hadn't wanted to be plagued by calls from Dean, so yesterday he had left the phone switched off in the hopes of avoiding it. Sure enough when his phone came back on he had nearly a dozen missed calls from Dean, there was one from Bobby and one from a number that he couldn't identify.

Sam didn't bother with them, if he was going to stick with his mission; he couldn't let himself get side tracked so her cleared all of the messages without even reading or listening to them. A clean slate was what was called for here.

With that done, Sam searched for Wendy's number and dialled hoping to god that he could reach her. He didn't know when he would get another opportunity like this again.

"Hello." said the gentle voice on the other end of the phone and at is sound Sam nearly felt like weeping.

"Wendy? It's Sam." he finally said "I can't talk for long, but I just wanted to call and see how you are."

"Sam" Wendy said, her voice swelling with delight as she said his name. "I was hoping that you would call. Where are you? You sound strange?"

"Strange?" said Sam, feeling his chest tighten slightly "What do you mean strange?"

"It's all echoey like you've got your head in a bucket or something." she said, and Sam could hear the smile in her voice.

"No" Sam said trying to laugh but not feeling terribly humorous "No buckets. But there is a mop and a rather large pile of urinal cakes."

"What?" said Wendy quizzically "Are you alright Sam? You don't sound too good?"

"No. I'm fine….I just….." Sam sighed heavily running his hand through his hair "I just really miss you is all."

There was a long pause and for a moment Sam wondered if the signal had dropped out, but then Wendy spoke alleviating all of his fears.

"Why don't you Sam? Why not come back here for a little while? I know that you can't stay forever….but…I miss you too….and….you're really starting to worry me."

Sam closed his eyes letting his head fall back as he listened to the quiet beseeching voice on the other end of the line.

"I want to come back….You can't imagine just how much I want to come back, but there is something that I need to take care of first."

"Well I have some holiday time owing" she said quickly "Tell me where you are and I'll come to you."

Sam was sorely tempted to say yes, but he had no idea where they were headed and he sure as hell wasn't going to expose Wendy to the dangers that Isabelle and Mel represented.

"You can't do that. It is just too dangerous here and I won't put you in more danger than I already have."

"I'm not afraid Sam." said Wendy resolutely "I know you think I am but I can handle it."

"I don't doubt you" replied Sam "I am just afraid enough for the both of us."

Sam looked at his watch then at the locked door of the bathroom. "Wendy, I'm sorry but I have to go."

"Alright" Wendy replied quietly "But ring me back when you can."

"I will" Sam promised, and with that he hung up unsure if he felt worse or better for making that call.

He hurried out of the restrooms and handed the key back in to the service attendant. Then he went back to the pick-up and climbed in studiously avoiding meeting Isabelle's knowing eyes.

"Alright" he said as he started the engine "Where are we headed?"

"Tuba City" Isabelle said quietly, and the statement of an actual destination rather than a direction surprised Sam so much he had to look at the tiny girl sitting beside him.

"What's in Tuba City?" he finally asked, praying that this one act of disclosure meant that Isabelle was finally going to share more information with him.

"You'll know when we get there." she said enigmatically, and Sam couldn't help the sharp spike of disappointment that lanced through his chest.

"Great" he muttered under his breath as he put the truck in drive and headed off to rejoin the highway.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Those of Good Purpose - Chapter 5**

**Day 285**

**Duchesne, Utah – 9:45am**

Dean leant against Charlotte's highly polished sides, catching the warmth of the morning sun on his face as he waited for the Doc to finish at the shops. They had pulled into Duchesne just before they hit the 191 south to pick up some breakfast and source what they could for the scrying spell.

Hannah had taken some time in a small antique store going through the various shelves looking for the appropriate votive bowl. She had eventually decided that a small silver sugar bowl would probably suite there needs, but the store owner had insisted that the bowl was a part of heavily tarnished tea service. Dean had been prepared to argue the point with the crotchety old woman, but to save time; Hannah had quickly stalled the argument by agreeing to purchase it all.

"At least" Hannah said as they walked backed to the car "if we ever have a need for silver bullets, we won't be caught short for something to melt down."

Dean had been irritated that they had been backed into a corner by the pushy shop owner, but when Hannah had put it in terms that had logic in has relatively crazy universe, somehow his irritation had quickly dissipated and he had found a safe little spot for the silver in Charlotte's generous trunk.

After their antique shop encounter, Hannah had hurried to a small natural therapies shop on the main strip of Duchesne to pick up some candles and had sent him to the hunting store just a bit further down to pick up a sharp hunting knife for the ceremony.

Dean had taken the opportunity to buy some ammunition for his purloined .22 and shotgun. The three day waiting period for handguns was a bit of a problem, but Dean was able to add a .270 Winchester hunting rifle an a Browning A-Bolt to his purchases immediately, so he had walked out of the hunting goods store, feeling a little like Rambo with a varied assortment of ammunition, guns and knives.

Hannah had met him by the car a small bag of hand made candles hanging from her arm. If she had been at all perturbed by his purchases, she had not shown it as he loaded the weapons and ammunition safely into the car. Now the Doc was getting them some breakfast and coffee and Dean was grateful…he hadn't realise just how hungry he was until the Doc had offered to pick up some food.

As he watched her waiting patiently through the coffee shop window, his phone buzzed in his back pocket, and he quickly pulled it out hoping, perhaps foolishly, that it may have been Sam. The caller ID proclaimed that it was in fact Wendy, so in Dean's book that was nearly the next best thing.

Flicking the phone open anxiously Dean answered

"Wendy….It's Dean."

"Hey Dean" Wendy said quietly, and Dean couldn't help but hear the strange note in her voice "How are you?"

"I'm fine" Dean answered "But I'll be a heck of a lot better if you tell me that you've heard from Sam."

There was a brief silence and Dean wondered if she was debating telling him the truth or not. He looked up to see if the Doc was near by so he could attract her attention, but she was still at the counter, her attention diverted by the waitress who was filling their order.

"So that Hannah woman was telling the truth then…Sam isn't with you?"

"No" confirmed Dean "He skipped out on me, the night before last. Please Wendy, if you have any information, you need to give it to me…I'm afraid Sam may have gotten himself into some real trouble here."

"What kind of trouble?" Wendy asked guardedly and Dean had to temper his patience so he didn't snap at her.

"I'm not certain" he confessed honestly "But he is out there on his own and you have seen first hand the kind of enemies that we are dealing with."

"He called" Wendy suddenly blurted, as if she had been waiting for Dean to say exactly the right thing to persuade her to divulge the information without guilt.

"When?" Dean hissed

"A few minutes ago." she said

"Did he tell you where he was, or where he was headed?" Dean questioned, watching as the Doc crossed the road towards him, a paper bag and two coffee cups in her hands.

"No" Wendy said with a sigh "He was really evasive, he wouldn't tell me anything."

"Damn" Dean swore slightly, a reaction that made the Doc look at him quizzically

"Something is wrong Dean….Sam didn't sound right." said Wendy and in her words Dean could hear her worry, a worry that mirrored his own. "He said he needed to do something really dangerous."

"Is there anything else that he said that may be able to help us find him?" Dean asked, knowing it was probably a pointless query.

"No, I'm sorry. He was only on very briefly, like he had stolen a moment to call."

Dean's brows furrowed at that statement. He had assumed that Sam had not been answering his calls, because he didn't want to, but Wendy's statement raised the prospect that maybe he couldn't return Dean's calls.

"I asked him to call me back when he could. If he does I will let you know."

"Thanks Wendy" Dean said, hanging his head slightly in disappointment "I appreciate it."

"Just find him and keep him safe Dean" Wendy said firmly "I would like to see him again."

"Yeah." said Dean as he hung up the phone "Me too."

Dean slipped the phone into his back pocket and hustled around the car to open the door for the Doc who was juggling their breakfast order in her hands.

"Sam just called Wendy." Dean explained as he moved.

"I take it that he didn't tell her anything that would help us at all?" the Doc said as she slid into the passenger's seat.

"Hell no" exclaimed Dean as he closed the door "Nothing can be easy for the Winchester's Doc, we have to do everything the hardest way possible."

"Well you're in good company" Hannah said smiling as Dean slid into the driver's seat next to her "I'm not exactly known for my seamless passing through life either."

As Dean turned the key in the ignition, the car was suddenly filled with the wailing guitar of 'Pinball Wizard' by The Who. Dean tapped his hands on the steering wheel to pick up on the rhythm, then checking his mirrors; he pulled out into traffic and headed out towards the 191.

As they were driving along, Hannah was very aware of Dean sitting beside her. He had this incredible capacity for multi tasking where he could drive, eat a meatball sub and drink his coffee while occasionally picking up on a verse or a chorus of the song that was playing.

A smile tugged at her lips and she had to keep from looking at him or she was going to smile wholeheartedly and that gesture just felt wrong when she considered what they were doing and where they were going.

She sipped her tea from a paper cup, lamenting the necessity that prevented her from drinking from the porcelain cups that she preferred. She watched the beautiful scenery flash by her, but her mind was not focused on it.

Instead her mind kept turning to the dark ritual that she would almost certainly have to perform later on in the day. The idea of it swirled in her mind like water circling a drain and she could feel the excitement of the dark entity building in the darkest recesses of her consciousness.

Maggots of doubt began gnawing at her faith in her own intellectual strength and she feared now that if she lost the almost continual battle that she had with the entity captured in her psyche, it would not only destroy her, but also hurt Dean and that was completely unacceptable.

She had the creature captured deep within her, but it continually threatened to break through the mental safeguards that she had erected around it. Being the jailer of this darkness was an exercise in discipline, requiring her to have to meditate on the mental binding that she had created and strengthen them to ensure that they wouldn't be broken.

The Doc had followed the same ritual and routine for nearly three years, ensuring that the beast was secured, but in all that time she had deliberately not exposed herself to the dark call of the grimoires that she collected, nor had she exerted any of her gifts in the ways that she had done over the past few months. She was delving into unchartered territory at breakneck speed, and if she wasn't vigilant, many would suffer.

Hannah closed her eyes taking a steadying breath in and focused all of her mental energy. She blocked out all the noises around her, internalising her focus until she was no longer even aware of her physical form. She was a creature of pure thought and energy.

She visualised a large dark room in her mind, at its centre stood an iron cell illuminated by imaginary spotlights at the four corners of the larger room. The cell always reminded her of something from a WWII submarine movie or some massive bridge construction from the 1920s or 30s. Her mind had created the image of the most secure thing she could think of, visualisation being the only way that she knew how to train her thoughts to act as a prison.

Every panel was thick heavy iron, tinged orange with age by her imagination, but quite clearly a indestructible construct of industrial might. Where the joins of each panel met, dozens of rivets the size of a fist held them securely in place and every seam had been welded befitting a battle ship or a building girder. There were no windows in this cell and the only access point in or out of it was a heavy iron door that had a large circular handle like that of an old bank vault.

To add security, her mind had imagined heavy iron chains running all over the cell in a strange spider web of added security. Where each chain crossed another, they were secured by massive padlocks that would need a skeleton key the length of her arm to open. She was almost certain she had picked up that little visual from a Houdini escape trick she had seem pictures of as a child and seeing the chains always added a level of comfort for her.

As she visualised herself walking towards the cell a loud ringing clang filled the dark room of her mind, making her mental self start ever so slightly, her steps towards the cell faltering for a heartbeat before she quickly continued on, reminding herself that it was like this every time she came here.

The entity trapped in the windowless cell almost always knew whenever her mental focus was directed to this part of her mind and would rail against its binding box with what she imagined were clawed meaty fists.

The sound was like standing in the bell tower of a large cathedral just as the bell was struck, the noise being an almost physical force that filled every space. But unlike a bell that was rhythmic and sonorus, this noise was erratic and had a desperate tone about it that put Hannah's teeth on edge.

As she moved closer to the cell, the whispering began almost making her mental self flinch. When she was not focused on this area of her mind, Hannah had all but developed the strength to block the whispered voices from her consciousness, but whenever she went to the iron cell where she had imprisoned her entity, its voice always found her, a deep seductive baritone that could caress her with sound and seduce her with lies.

This was how she had fallen to its mercy in the first place, the whispering seductive voice that curled through her mind like tendrils of smoke urging her to do the things it wanted. Even now Hannah could not deny the beauty of this entity's voice. It was a deep rich voice that gave one the feeling of drinking a fine fortified wine, rich and spicy at first and spreading warmth as it eased over everything.

When she had first heard the voice, she could never have imagined that something so beautiful to the ear could ever have been evil, but she had learnt through the hardest possible way that when dealing with demonic forces, nothing was what it seemed.

_"I knew you would come back to me" _it whispered as she continued forward, silently repeating over and over in her consciousness that everything this entity said was a lie.

_"I have missed you terribly."_

Hannah kept walking fighting every instinct that she had to engage the entity in conversation.

_"You have come all this way and will not speak with me...how sad."_

Stepping close to the cell Hannah inspected the markings that had been etched deeply all over the iron surface. It looked almost like someone had handed a tagger a spray can and dosed them with caffeine and said 'Go your hardest'.

Of course Hannah had strategically placed every single one of them, pulling them from her intellect and applying down a patchwork of powerful occult iconography. The symbols of hundreds of cultures were represented, Tibetan, Hindu, Egyptian, Mesopotamian all layered one on top of the other to create a spiritual cell as strong as the iron cell appeared.

_"Open the door Hannah and I will give you anything that you desire." _

The demon's whispered voiced filled Hannah and even though she was a mental form, a creation of her own psyche, she imagined that her bones and internal organs ached in response, a memory of when the creature a first started speaking with her. In spite of everything it had ever done to her, everything she had been through at its mercy, there was still a small part of her that wanted to do whatever it said.

_"Come now Hannah, you were raised with better manners than this...you know you should speak when spoken to."_

Words filled Hannah's consciousness, angry violent retorts that she longed to hurl at this entity, but experience had taught her that the best thing to do when she was dealing with this evil was not to engage it at all. It was seductive, manipulative and could twist words better than a politician.

Reaching out Hannah laid a hand on the symbol in front of her, a scrolling Nordic rune used by the wise women of the Viking culture to bind and suppress evil. As her fingers touched the cool metal, the rune began to glow like it was made of neon and as the glow grew the rune seemed to sink just a litter deeper into the iron as if the heat generated by the gathering light had caused the iron to soften and melt. The image was the best way Hannah knew how to represent the tightening and strengthening of the powerful symbol.

_"Hannah"_ said the entity sweetly, lingering on her name like a lover _"Every time you come to visit with me we go through this nonsense...aren't you sick and tired of doing this_."

_Yes_ she answered silently...she was sick of the constant battle for control, she was sick of having to perpetually ensure that the entrapped entity was contained securely, she was sick of always being afraid that this entity may escape. But she said nothing placing her hand on the next symbol and going through the strengthening ritual that she performed.

In essence this was nothing but an exercise of mental discipline, but Hannah knew from experience that all of the effectiveness of these symbols would be greatly diminished once she was exposed to the dark energy that would be produced from the scrying spell.

The entity would become stronger with that energy and no doubt the casting of it would weaken her resistant against it. If she didn't ensure that her fortification would hold through the ordeal, then the entity would exploit any weakness in her defences and she would be a useless puppet once again, wielded by the cruellest of task masters.

_"Let me out" _crooned the entity, its voice soft and smooth _"I swear if you let me out, I will go on my own way and leave you be...you can be rid of me once and for all. Free from all of this rubbish forever...free to be whoever you want to be and do whatever you want to do. You could leave this life...start a family...teach as you have always wanted to do...If you let me out, I will give you your dreams."_

Methodically Hannah moved over the symbols, touching her finger to each one, strengthening it and reaffirming its effectiveness. The entity continued to speak to her begging her, bribing her, pleading with her. As the spiritual cell grew stronger, the entity became more desperate, its conversation switching between threats and entreaties.

As she moved, the creature thumped on the walls of its cell trying to scare her away, but just as she had with its words, Hannah just tuned the loud metallic ringing out as she worked.

Finally the creature's composure broke _"You fucking little whore...when I get out of this. I will destroy you, I will destroy everything thing that you love. I will slaughter your precious Adam and I will bathe in his entrails and in his blood. I will burn down your cottage until it is nothing more than ash and then I will find your lover boy and I will take his skin from him while he is still alive and watch while he dies in agony."_

At hearing the entity speak of Dean, Hannah paused her mental self feeling a chill course through it. It knew her fears, it knew how to play upon her emotions and she had spent a very long time disciplining herself not to rise to its bating.

But the entity bringing up Dean hit her in a weak spot. She had not yet developed her own internal defences when it came to Dean. She cared for him more than she had cared for anyone since her family had been killed and the beast knew it, would play on it, and would worry at the chink in her armour until it had her

As if sensing her hesitation the beast continued its rant _"Perhaps"_ it cried letting its claws slide down the iron walls with an ear piercing screech _"When I get out of here, I will take him as my new host and I will lock his pathetic tiny mind away in a windowless room and only let him watch as I use his body to slaughter his friends and his family. Then I will leave him alive to live with what he has done."_

Hannah ground her teeth desperately searching for that reservoir of strength against the entity's words. The idea of what it was suggesting was more horrifying to Hannah than anything else she could have come up with in her wildest imagination. She wouldn't wish the torture of her own experience on her worst enemy, let alone someone that she truly cared for.

"_Do you hear me bitch, I will destroy him in the most vicious way I can conceive of. I will turn him into a child rapist and then hand his vile meat suit over to the police so that he will live the rest of his life as fodder for the lust of every felon that takes a fancy to his pretty face. I will use him as the instrument that will bring down the very humans he is trying so desperately to protect…and all the while I will let him know that it was you that made his fate for him."_

"You will not touch him" Hannah hissed in her mind, unable to bear the demons words in silence any longer.

The entity laughed a raucous cackle sounding almost like a wail _"And how will you stop me? You can't keep me in here forever."_

"I can and I will" Hannah vowed pounding her fist against the iron walls of the cell.

"_How naïve you are. You will not live forever! Already I feel this weak body aging and dying, and when you have no more strength left, I will be free to do as I please."_

"When I die, I am going straight to hell for what I bought down on my family, I already know that….but know this you sick son of a bitch, I will spend my last ounce of energy dragging you back there with me, I swear it."

The creature laughed again giving Hannah the pause that she needed to order her thoughts. She stilled her rioting emotions, recognising that she had done exactly what she had been trying to avoid. She had shown this creature that its words had worried her and that had given it power. She could not afford to give this force anything if she was going to keep it in check.

"_You are not strong enough to do anything to me._"

This time it was Hannah who laughed and she made it a confident bold laugh, a sound that she could tell caught the entity off guard. She needed to rob it of any advantage that she had handed it, and the best way to do that was to be unaffected by its words, even if it was for appearances sake only.

"Those are bold words from a creature who has been imprisoned here for several years."

Her words flowed out a deliberately casual thought less throw away comment. She could feel the entity snarling and clawing at her from the other side of the cell, but she refused to move her hand away from the iron wall, instead she used a portion of her focus to continue to strengthen the runes and symbols around the cell just to prove that nothing it could say to her would prevent her from going about her task.

"You forget just how well I know you, you stupid bastard." she said as she moved on to the scrolling Celtic ward that covered the seam of the door. "The fact of the matter is, that you have no idea what will happen to you when my body dies. For all you know, you will be stuck within me unable to do anything as my meat suit, as you so elegantly put it, rots away to nothing."

Hannah could feel the entities agitation growing as she made her words a deliberate statement of fact, emotion free except for the contempt she felt for in intellectual inferior. If she had learned nothing else about this creature, she had learned that it was vein, proud of its intellect and capacity for learning and to insinuate that it was in any way lacking in mental fortitude was the best most effective way of hurting it.

Sensing that she had successfully pushed the creature onto the back foot she laughed again and in an unconcerned voice she simply said. "You'll probably just cease to exist." and with that she allowed the image of her body to dissipate into a mere thought without form, as if punctuating through her actions exactly would happen to the entity.

She could hear the creature as it raged against her words in its iron prison and if she had a mouth she would have smiled. Instead she allowed her consciousness to float above the cell to look down on the intricate devil's trap etched on the roof of the cell.

Hannah allowed the thought energy that was her consciousness to hover over each line, each intricate symbol that made up the trap. She focused all of her attention on the pictogram until it was a glowing white light of pure energy. She wasn't just strengthening the devil's trap, she had become the devil's trap and for a brief moment…it made her feel strong.

"Doc!"

Hannah heard Dean's voice deep within her consciousness, but it seemed a very long way away and muffled somehow. She was vaguely aware of something on her arm and her body moving, but there was a cloud over all of her physical sensations. Hannah withdrew from the big dark room containing the iron cell leaving the entity wailing against its restraints. She had the very brief sensation of falling and then she was back in her right mind, blinking suddenly at the burning light that filled her eyes.

She turned watering eyes on Dean who was looking at her with genuine concern his hand still on her are.

"Doc? Are you ok?"

Blinking a couple of times while her eyes readjusted to the light Hannah replied mildly "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Dean looked at her rather quizzically "Well you've been zoned out for well over an hour, you kind of had me a bit worried."

Hannah first looked at the clock on the dash and realised that Dean wasn't kidding. Nearly two hours had passed since they had left Duchesne, then she looked out the window and realised that Dean had pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and had his full attention focused on her.

"No need to worry" Hannah said trying to make her voice sound light in spite of the fact that she was perturbed at just how much time had elapsed while she had been securing the darkness deep within "I'm fine."

"It's just that you were crying?" Dean said almost accusingly, watching her with raptor efficiency.

Hannah touched her cheeks, feeling wetness on her fingertips that she hadn't expected. She drew her hand away surprised. From the amount of tears on her fingertips she hadn't just been crying, it looked like she had been weeping."

"Well" she said surprised "That's different."

She looked at Dean who was very clearly confused by not only her tears, but also at her staggered response to them.

"What happened Doc?" Dean asked, his voice stern with a slightly protective tone underlying it.

"I'm not sure." Hannah said evenly, unwilling to reveal to Dean exactly what she had been doing. "I was just meditating on doing the scrying spell trying to prepare for it a little and I must have wandered off in my head."

Dean reached over a brushed at the rapidly drying tears with his thumb. It was such a gentle gesture and was so thoroughly unexpected, not only for Hannah but for Dean himself that they were left staring at each other, a silence stretching between them.

"Doc" Dean finally said watching her closely "This spell has you worried doesn't it?"

Before Hannah could protest, Dean held up his hand in a gesture for silence "Don't even bother … I may not be you or Sam, but I am not deaf, dumb, blind and stupid…"

He smiled then trying to bring a little levity to the situation "well the jury is still out on the stupid part…but the point is I can tell you're not too happy about doing this spell and as far as I'm concerned you don't have to. We'll find another way to locate Sam. We have Wendy helping us now and if I know Sam, he'll be back on the phone to her by nightfall telling her where he is."

"You don't really believe that." Hannah said not as a question but as a statement. She could feel the lack of conviction behind his words like barb wire around her chest.

"There's another way Doc." Dean said lightly as if he could make it so by sheer force of will alone "There has to be, we just haven't found it yet."

Hannah smiled at Dean because she knew that's what he needed to see, but she also knew that if there was another way to locate Sam it could take them months to find it. She could feel that Dean knew that too. He had been through an extended search for a loved one when his father was 'missing' and it had taken them the better part of a year to find John Winchester. The difference being that John had wanted to be found…Sam however did not.

"Do you want to drive for a while?" offered Dean with a smile.

"No that's alright" said Hannah returning his smile "Unless you would like a break."

"Are you kidding" he said starting the engine and pumping the gas making the engine growl "I could go all day and all night and all through the next day."

Hannah smiled at Dean's openly bawdy overtures. "Now that's a theory I'd like to test."

Dean waggled his eyebrows at her, his face breaking into a brilliant white toothed grin, before he pressed hard on the gas and launched Charlotte back down the highway.

Hannah and Dean continued on without speaking further, letting the music fill in the silence that stretched between them. Hannah watched as the hills and mountain regions of Utah grew more sparse, the rich greens began to give way to the more arid red colours and bushland steadily became desert.

They followed the 191 until they hit Green River, then Dean decided on a bit of a change of course and took them through the less trafficked 24 through Hanksville. As they continued to head south Hannah became aware of a sensation tickling the periphery of her extra senses.

At one point she made Dean pull over so that she could take a moment to try and understand what she was feeling. The very earth in this part of the world seemed to hum with its own energy and as she walked through the sand and rocks, she could feel a charge run across her skin like static electricity.

Dean had waited patiently watching as she ran her hand through the dirt, but when she was at a loss as to how to explain it, she simply took his hand and shared with him the tingling sensation that coursed through her body.

"Wow" Dean had said "This is better than magic fingers and a pocket full of quarters. What is it?"

"I don't know" she had replied slightly awed by what she felt.

They had continued on, stopping briefly at Fry Canyon where the sensation only seemed to be growing in strength. Again Hannah had laid her palms flat against to towering rock formations and again she had felt the pins and needles sensation across her skin.

"What is this Doc?" Dean had asked his hands covering hers against the rock face.

"I honestly wish I knew." she had said, her eyes wide at the discovery.

Hannah was intrigued by the sensation. It sparked her intellectual curiosity but she was conscious of the time slipping away from them and she didn't want to hold Dean up any longer to investigate this strange sensation, so they had continued on.

The 95 took them on a curling route through the desert until it connected with the 261 pushing them further south. The highways here were so strange, switching between long straights and sharp twisting curling roads that took one around mesas and buttes.

About 10 miles out of Mexican Hat, the seemingly straight road, seemed to twist back on itself like a rattlesnake ready to strike. The road became a swinging series of hair pin turns and switchbacks, which Dean took at the speeds that would seem dangerous to most.

He was so absorbed by the challenge of the road and the roaring wail of the engines as he pushed Charlotte through every turn, he didn't notice the way Hannah gripped at her head as a sudden flash of precognition filled her consciousness.

She saw in her mind a ranch, in the middle of the desert with nothing surrounding it. Dean stood beside her in one of the rooms of the ranch and in a mirror she saw the briefest flash of Sam. She felt a brief sense of elation because the scrying spell would work, then she felt the presence of darkness just as she had predicted….the demons would come.

Hannah's eyes flickered open and she gasped for air realising that she had been holding her breath throughout her vision.

"Don't worry, I got it." said Dean, mistaking Hannah's reaction for fear as he bought Charlotte flying around the last hairpin.

Hannah turned uncomprehending eyes on Dean as she recovered her bearings and looked out at where they were, madly searching for some clue as to where to find the ranch. On the road ahead, a dusty road side pointed to a road that curled off into the desert away from the main highway. A flash of intuition told Hannah that was exactly where they needed to be.

"Turn left." Hannah said sternly watching the approaching turn off as it came flying towards them.

"What?" Dean questioned in surprise

"Do it!" Hannah commanded "Now"

At the directness of her tone, Dean automatically switched into soldier mode, following orders without question. Even though he hadn't quite washed off enough speed, Dean pulled on the hand break and turned the wheel hard, throwing Charlotte into a wild turn. Her rear end fish tailed for a brief moment, threatening to send them wildly out of control, but then the tyres but in to the asphalt and once again Charlotte was charging forward.

"What the hell Doc?" snapped Dean as he washed off a lot of Charlotte's speed on the smaller desert road.

Hannah looked at Dean, the features of her face serious and her lips pressed into a thin grim line.

"There's a ranch somewhere along this road. If we do the scrying spell there, we'll see Sam."

"How do you…" began Dean

"Please" said Hannah turning her eyes to Dean "Just trust me."

"Was it a vision?" Dean asked after a short silence keeping his eyes on the road ahead of them. He took her silence as affirmation.

"What did you see?"

Hannah brushed her hair away from her face, a gesture that betrayed her growing tension.

"I saw you and I in a room at an isolated ranch. We were looking into a mirror and I got a brief glimpse of Sam."

"Is that all?" Dean asked sensing that she was keeping something back.

"No" she said her voice barely a whisper "Then the demons came."

**

* * *

**

Day 285

**Tuba City, Arizona – 6:12pm**

Sam sat in the cab of the truck, across the street from a biker bar on the outskirts of Tuba City. As the sun descended in the sky a steady stream of leather clad bikers had begun to pull up at the bar and he watched as and near army of burly Indians climbed off their two wheel beasts and went inside.

He glanced across at Isabelle who sat next to him and watched her as she stared at the bar with her unblinking eyes. She had told them next to nothing about why they were here despite Sam's repeated request for information, but even Mel seemed to sense that something was going down because her usual whining had been replaced with a quiet air of anticipation.

They had pulled into Tuba City an hour or so after their stop in Kayenta. The city itself was a Navajo town in the middle of a Navajo reservation. The population of the town was nearly 10 000 people most of whom could trace their ancestry back to the original Indians of the area.

Upon looking at the locals, Mel had expressed a certain unease about being there, and while Sam had said nothing he shared Mel's sentiment. They did tend to stick out from the tanned dark haired people of the town. Not wanting to draw attention to themselves, they had quickly organised a motel room, where they had waited for hours for the evening to fall.

Throughout the long wait, Sam had tried to persuade information out of Isabelle, but she had stayed enigmatically silent, only opening her mouth to school Sam in patience. By the time they had climbed into the truck to get going, Sam was about ready to tear his own fingernails off in frustration.

Now as they sat in the truck watching the bar, he had to call on all of his discipline. He was watching, but had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for and Isabelle had resolutely given him no further information to go on.

Nearly a solid hour ticked by as they sat and watched, until Sam felt something brush against his senses; a subtle feeling at the corner of his mind. He saw Mel straighten in her seat and train her eyes down the darkened road, quite clearly feeling the same thing that he had.

He closed his eyes, extending his extra senses out in a web, as Hannah had trained him months ago to do, and this time he felt it solidly; a presence of malicious energy heading to their position…clearly demonic in nature.

Sam opened his eyes and looked down at Isabelle, who had a smile playing across her lips.

"Arrogant fool" she said quietly "He makes no attempt to mask his presence at all."

"It isn't Rimmon." said Sam feeling immediately the difference in this entities energy from that which he had felt at the rail yard.

"No it is not." Isabelle confirmed "This one is not quite as powerful as Rimmon, but still dangerous none the less."

As she spoke, the loud growl of a powerful motorbike could be heard heading towards them. A minute later, a wide shouldered Indian rode up to the parking lot of the bar on a Harley Fatboy with handle bars so long his hands were raised higher than his shoulders.

Dean watched as the mountain of a man uncurled himself off the bike and headed in towards the bar. He probably wasn't quite as tall as Sam, but he was broader in the shoulders with a great barrel like chest; an imposing figure that made even the road hardened bikers standing by the door hurry out of his way as he went inside.

"So what's the plan?" asked Sam turning towards Isabelle.

"We destroy him." she said matter-of-factly.

"Great" said Sam grinding his teeth in frustration "Good plan, what do we do trap and exorcise him, or can I just shoot him with the Colt or what?"

"Think Sam" said Isabelle with a slightly disappointed look on her face "You can't do the rites of exorcism because that merely banishes a demon back to hell…it doesn't destroy it."

"Not to mention the fact that as a demon Isabelle would be as affected by an exorcism as he would" muttered Mel, who was intently inspecting the nail that she had been chewing on for the better part of the day.

It was lucky that she wasn't paying attention because she completely missed the withering look that Isabelle gave her, but Sam couldn't miss it, he was just very glad not to be on the other end of it.

"Alright, so I use the Colt then." said Sam shrugging.

"Don't put your faith in that terror of the industrial age Sam." said Isabelle shifting slightly in her seat, but never taking her eyes from the bar across the street. "It may very well destroy anything paranormal, but like all modern inventions it is so wasteful."

"I don't understand." said Sam, his interest piqued at her response.

"I know you don't" said Isabelle imperiously "But you will."

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - Those of Good Purpose**

**Day 285**

**Valley of the Gods, Utah - 5:40pm**

Dean spotted the ranch a mile or so up the road. It wasn't hard to see as it was the only man made structure for miles and miles.

"Up ahead Doc, that the ranch you saw?"

"It must be" she replied in a grave tone looking at the building as it grew larger on the horizon.

Charlotte continued down the black top as the sun was sinking in the western sky. In a matter of minutes, Dean could see a mail box and a sign by a dirt drive way.

'_Valley of the Gods Bed and Breakfast'_ the sign proclaimed and washing off most of his speed, Dean turned Charlotte onto the dirt driveway and sent her heading towards the ranch house that was set well back from the road.

As they pulled closer Dean realised that the ranch house was a massive wooden structure, rising out of the desert like one of the many buttes and mesas that spotted the skyline behind it.

A small rockery had been cultivated in front of the house and in it someone had lovingly planted desert grasses and succulent plants to create a small oasis of green in the massive expanse of scrubby desert beyond.

As they pulled up, a gangly denim clad man opened up the front door and started down the porch steps towards them.

"Evenin'" he said with a broad smile on his sun weathered face. "How you folk's doin'?"

"Evening." replied Dean climbing out of the driver's door, shooting a glance at the Doc who was also climbing out of the car.

"I'm guessin' you're after a room?" asked the man as he came to stand by Charlotte.

"As a matter of fact..." said Dean, but before he could finish his sentence, Hannah had moved quickly, taking the man's face in her hands and forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"How many people are in the house?" she demanded

Dean hurried around to her side of the car watching her as she demanded answers of the man. Her actions had been completely unexpected, but whatever was going to happen Dean was determined to back her up.

"Just my wife" replied the man sluggishly as if he had just awoken from sleep.

"You have no guests?" she persisted holding her hands, fingers spread widely across the man's angular face.

"No, no other guests at the moment." the man replied, again his words slurring and sluggish almost as if he was drunk.

"Dean" Hannah said without letting go of the man's face "There is cash in my purse, will you get it for me please."

Dean moved quickly to do as Hannah asked. He had seen her manipulate thoughts once before and it had unnerved him then. Nothing had changed, he still found the prospect of her ability to manipulate another person's mind a truly frightening thing.

He retrieved the cash from her purse unconsciously estimating how much was there. The Doc was carrying almost $500 in cash and as he walked back to them, he had an inkling that he knew what she was planning.

"Put it in this gentleman's pocket please." she instructed never breaking eye contact with the man who gazed at her dreamily.

"All of it?" Dean questioned flicking through the bills in his hand feeling reluctant to part with so much money.

"Yes thank you." she replied distractedly.

"Congratulations buddy" muttered Dean as he slipped the bills in the back pocket of the man's jeans "Spend it wisely. My girl here worked very hard inheriting that."

Hannah inhaled taking a long soothing breath, "You will take the money in your pocket and you will take your wife on a romantic get away. You will not return here for at least two days. You will leave immediately and you will not worry about the ranch because you trust that Dean and I will take care of it, do you understand?"

"Yes" said the man, who had been starring intently at the Doc's lips as they formed words.

"Go inside and fetch your wife and a bag, you have to leave soon, you don't want to be late."

The man was nodding his head even as Hannah removed her hands from his face. There was a moment where his eyes seemed to regain focus and an expression of confusion crossed his face. Then he turned with a smile at the pair and hurried inside calling to his wife even as he mounted the stairs two at a time.

"What are you thinking Doc?" asked Dean with more curiosity than accusation.

"We need to get the civilians out of the area; I don't want the demons to have any hosts in the immediate area." She said keeping her eyes on the front of the house.

"So the man is susceptible to the old Jedi mind trick, what if his old lady is a little stronger willed?"

Hannah turned her eyes to Dean's and they all but shone with their own internal light. Her irises moved with molten mercury and her pupils were so small it looked like her eyes were pure silver.

"I don't think it will be a problem" she said keeping her unblinking eyes on his "You know that sensation that we discovered a few miles back…..well it is much stronger here and it seems to be amplifying my abilities. It's like I can channel the energy right out of the earth."

Without waiting for him to answer she grabbed on to his wrists and the jolt of power nearly made Dean's knees buckle. The Doc was right; he could feel the earth beneath his feet humming like an electrical high tension wire. Hannah as the conduit had linked him into a massive reserve of power and it now ran through him making him feel almost invincible.

He smiled at Hannah his eyes widening in surprise as he let himself go and just let his body be a part

of the total flow of power. There was a euphoric quality to this energy that bordered on sexual. Dean let himself sink deeper into the sensation, his pulse quickening to match the thrumming energy flow. All he could think of doing was taking the Doc and throwing her to the ground where they stood and pound into her with that same insistent rhythm that he could feel in the flow of energy.

Hannah caught his eye, and from the heated look that she gave him, he knew that she had read his thoughts and would have been perfectly open to the prospect, if only to get closer to the heady energy that was flowing all around them. As the impulse grew into need, Dean groaned closing his eyes and letting his head tip back as if it were too heavy for his neck.

A shrill voice echoing in the still desert made Dean start, his eye snapping open as a woman burst throught the front door of the house.

"Excuse me" she said belligerently "Can you please explain to me what the hell is going on here!"

Abruptly Hannah let go of Dean's wrists and he felt the sudden withdrawal of power like a sharp blow to his stomach, the impact almost doubling him over. At the loss of contact all of the need drained out of him in a massive rush and he was left with a hollow numb sensation like and ache in his chest that started under his rib cage and radiated out.

Hannah turned her eyes to the irate woman coming down the stairs towards them. She saw the exact moment where the woman saw her unnatural eyes and moved as soon as she saw the hesitation in the woman's descent down the stairs.

Pouncing like a big cat, Hannah captured the woman's face in her hand's and held tight as the woman's natural instinct to fight kicked in.

"Be Calm" Hannah commanded as Dean moved quickly to help restrain the woman who had a white knuckled grip on Hannah's wrists.

"Be Calm!" Hannah said again more forcefully. As the words left her lips, the woman's struggle stopped and she looked expectantly into the Doc's eyes. Dean watched Hannah as the Doc went through the same story with the woman that she had given her husband.

As Dean listened to Hannah speak, he found himself being swept up in the spell that the Doc was weaving. Her commands were gentle but firm and they held a strange quality that made you want to believe her. Soon she had the woman smiling and nodding at her.

As the Doc finished with the woman, her husband appeared at the door, an overnight bag in his hand.

"Come on Kaye, we better hit the road we don't want to be late."

The woman looked between Hannah and Dean and her husband as if she was taking a moment to assimilate the new state of affairs.

"No" she said finally "You're right. We don't want to be late. Are you sure you packed everything?...Maybe..."

"Don't worry sweetheart" insisted the woman's husband coming down the steps and taking her by the elbow "If I have forgotten something, then we'll just pick it up on the road somewhere."

"Alright." she said still hesitating on the steps "Are you sure you two will be alright when we're gone?"

"They'll be fine" insisted the woman's husband before Hannah or Dean could speak.

He escorted her down towards the battered Jeep Cherokee that was parked to the side of the driveway.

The woman must have still had some reservations, because her husband had to redirect her attention one more time before they were safely in the car and heading down the dusty driveway.

"Well that was easier than it should have been." said Dean cocking an eyebrow as he studied the Doc for a moment "Why have you all of a sudden become the Energiser Bunny."

Hannah turned from him and walked back to Charlotte's trunk.

"I suspect that it is the rock formations here. I have read about certain areas that have become holy places because they amplify psychic energy…you know locations like Stonehenge and Easter Island, but I wasn't aware of any here in Utah…although with a name like Valley of the Gods, I'm sure it is no coincidence. The local Indian tribes must have known about this place for generations."

Hannah stood by Charlotte's trunk watching Dean expectantly. He walked up and stood a few inches from her forcing her to tilt her head back so that she could look up into his face.

"Doc" he said intimately, looking down at her "Don't get me wrong, I realise that we got kind of a deadline going on here, but there is just something I gotta do first."

Dean watched as Hannah's brow furrowed in question, until he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulled her body the short distance so that it was flush with his and laid his lips on hers in a passionate kiss. He had expected something to happen, with all of the crazy energy flowing around them, but as soon as Dean touched his lips to hers, it was like being struck by lightning.

A jolt of energy poured through him, and he threw his free hand out, steadying himself on Charlotte's trunk. The Doc groaned opening her mouth to his insistence and snaking her arms up and around his neck. As they held each other, it felt like flames licked over their skin, as they became a part of the energy that crackled with life in the earth around them. It made Dean's heart pump hard and his skin tingle on every inch of his body.

Unable to resist the seductive power, Dean lowered the Doc onto Charlotte's trunk covering her body with his own. He kissed her fiercely his fingers tangling deeply in her hair as he ground his erection into the soft juncture at the apex of her thighs. He wanted her so badly in this moment it was almost like a madness, the pulsing energy pushing him on, strumming a seductive rhythm that was ecstasy. On top of it all, the energy was magnifying the empathic relationship he had discovered with the Doc, and he felt every wave of desire, every heated passionate sensation that was pumping through her.

Without realising it, Dean's hands were pulling the Doc's sweater out of her jeans and working the buckle of her belt. As he worked to remove the impediments from what he wanted, a small voice of reason began to echo in his mind. They didn't have time for this, no matter how much each of them wanted to, no matter how high the fires of their desire had been built, if they indulged now they would lose their opportunity to find Sam.

As soon as Dean thought that, the Doc read it is his mind; and even as he was pulling back from her, she put a gentle but firm hand on his chest.

"I want you so bad right now" said Dean as he made an effort to straighten her dishevelled clothes.

"Likewise" Hannah said quietly holding on tightly to Dean's shoulder as her helped her off Charlotte's trunk.

"I hope Sammy appreciates the sacrifices that I am making for his sorry ass."

As Dean spoke he swallowed hard, trying to quell the burning in his gut that made him want to be inside of the Doc, even as he spoke. Once he made sure that the Doc had found her feet, he took a deliberate step away from her, running his hands agitatedly through his hair.

Hannah watched Dean, impressed by his restraint. If he hadn't put the brakes on, she would have let him take her there and then on the trunk of her car. For all her intellect, Hannah was struggling against the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. She waited patiently by the car as Dean fished the keys from the pocket of his jeans.

"This may take me a bit, the jeans are feeling a little tighter than usual." Dean muttered

Finally he opened the trunk then stepped away from the car, needing a private moment so that he could readjust himself in his pants. Hannah reached in pulling out the grimoire and the supplies that she had bought to perform the scrying spell, once she had started for the house and put some safe distance between them, Dean pulled out all the weapons that he could manage.

They carried all of their equipment up the porch stairs and into the quaint ranch house that served as a bed and breakfast for those that travelled into this part of the desert valley.

Hannah stopped in the entrance to the house looking around it with an assessing eye.

"We'll need to fortify this place before we start on the spell?" she said her eyes still roving over the frontier style house that was full of handicrafts and loved trinkets.

"Alright" said Dean putting his weapons down on the floor by the door "I'll get to salting the windows and doors."

"No" Hannah said gently "Let me take care of that. I want to give these people a little bit more protection than just salt. We're bringing hell down upon them, I figure it is the least we can do. Can you find a safe place where we can protect Charlotte and also make a quick getaway if we need to, and perhaps find something that we can use as our blood sacrifice?"

Dean paused for a moment studying the Doc as she smiled sadly up at him.

"Are you sure about this Doc?" he asked looking at her with eyes that bored into her "It isn't too late for us to back out now."

"No" Hannah said, the small smile slipping from her face "This is the way that it was always meant to be Dean. We need to do this if we are going to have any hope of finding Sam."

"Let's get to it." he said smiling at her and at his words he saw her countenance shift from the care and concern that she looked at him with, to the businesslike manner that he had seen on her before as she prepared for an encounter.

She nodded once briskly and then walked away from where he stood, to walk through the house and assess what defences were required.

Dean returned back outside and had a look at the two buildings that stood opposite the house. One was quite clearly a shed of some kind, while the other looked more like a stable or a barn, almost equalling the house in size.

On nimble feet, Dean jogged down the stairs and crossed the short distance to the two wooden buildings. They had been constructed to compliment the ranch house, so they had the same frontier look to them. Opening the doors, Dean discovered that the smaller of the two buildings was a workshop, fitted out with a lot of tools, lathes and work benches. It looked geared towards woodwork, but there were a couple of engine parts here and there that told Dean this it was used for more than just turning carpentry.

He closed and locked the shed figuring that there was nothing in there of use to him, so he moved to the large building and opened up the barn doors. Dean hadn't expected to see animals…one could usually hear and smell where animals were being kept, but he sure as hell hadn't expected to see the dozen quad bikes parked with military precision at the back of the barn.

It appeared that Mr & Mrs Homestead, to augment their B&B, also ran quad bike tours of the valley for any tourist that happened to stop by. The mechanic in Dean was instantly drawn to the squat little vehicles and he walked over to the machines, his interest growing with every step.

The little four wheelers were clean and shiny, showing that their owner took great pains in keeping them in tip top condition. Dean always admired that in a person and taking a moment he squatted down to appreciate the compact powerful engines that powered these funky little four wheeled beasts.

If the situation had been different Dean would have loved to just throw his leg over one and take the thing for a belt across the wide open expanse of the desert, but he had a job to do, so there was no use wishing on things that could never be. Dean indulged his automotive love for a few more minutes, poking around the quad bikes and kicking at their tyres, but then he refocused his attention and continued looking around the building.

To one side, the fastidious owners had built a large dry storage area. There was everything there from sacks of flour to large tins of beans and coffee. Looking at all the stores, Dean got the impression that the owners bought in bulk so they wouldn't have to leave their B&B too often. There were indeed enough supplies stored here to keep a small family going for a solid six months.

Dean wandered over having a look to see if there was anything that he could use. He smiled to himself as he found two hefty boxes of salt. God bless these frontier types who spat in the eye of the low sodium health movement and insisted on cooking with copious amounts of salt. It would certainly make his life easier, Dean thought, sending a silent thank you to the couple who would no doubt be living it up on the Doc's money.

Assessing the space, Dean figured that he could fit Charlotte in the building quite comfortably. The building had a small side door that gave the barn multiple points of access, for a quick get away, but it wouldn't take too much to salt the barn doors and the side door, so protecting the vehicles wasn't going to be a problem.

Dean went outside as the last light of the day was fading in the horizon. He reversed Charlotte into the barn, positioning her strategically for a fast exit, then he shut and salted all of the doors, effectively sealing the mustang in a Demon proof garage…that if push came to shove…they could potentially live in quite comfortably for the next six months.

Having found a solution for Charlotte, Dean turned his mind to his next task. He had thought he might have found something in the barn or workshop that could be sacrificed, but there had been no animals of any kind inside; he had even inspected the shelves and made sure that cunning little mice weren't nested somewhere in amongst all of the stores.

He checked around in the desert scrub surrounding the house without luck. He walked around the full exterior of the house looking for a suitable option. On the back porch an old one eyed tomcat watched him as he walked. Dean considered the cat for a heartbeat, but ultimately decided that it would be cruel to rob these people of a pet who they had obviously loved for years…Dean knew they must have loved it, because it was probably one of the ugliest cats he had ever seen in his life.

He also conceded that given the battle scars on the cat's scraggly body, the old bastard didn't look like he was going to give up without a good and solid fight and to be perfectly honest; Dean just didn't have the heart.

As he retraced his steps to the front of the house, Dean looked up as the Doc switched on one of the lights in the top floor bedrooms to combat the rapidly falling darkness. With his attention drawn up, Dean noticed a small bamboo cage dangle from a hook on the corner of the front porch. In the cage a small canary perched on a slim piece of dowel, its little body in constant jerky motion as it watched the world around it.

Dean swallowed hard…'Another damn pet' he thought miserably. It probably wasn't quite as bad as taking the family cat, but Dean found the idea of sacrificing the little canary slightly sickening. Give him a ten foot werewolf or an out for blood vampire and Dean had no qualms about taking those things down, but an innocent whether it was human or animal just didn't sit well on his conscience.

He went up the porch stairs and walked over to the little cage. At his approach the little bird fluttered excitedly around it its cage, until at last Dean stilled allowing the canary to become used to his presence. He watched the bird for a long minute reconciling the need to sacrifice it for a chance to save his brother. When Dean worked in those terms, it stopped being a choice. He knew that he would go to any lengths to keep his brother safe…and while he didn't like having to kill the little animal, it sure as hell wasn't going to stop him if it meant keeping Sammy safe.

Reaching up Dean unhooked the cage and went back inside the house. He placed the canary's cage on the large kitchen table, then he went throughout the house, getting a good understanding of the layout of the rooms should he have to take up a defensive position.

He noticed that over each of the doors and windows in the house, the Doc had drawn protective symbols in charcoal or chalk. Many of which he recognised; a number of which he didn't. She had drawn them, making them subtle on first glance, but Dean noticed them, intrigued by the knowledge that the Doc must be carrying around in her head. While he wanted to see where she was, Dean also didn't want to disturb the Doc, so he focused on making more preparations.

It had been a rule of John Winchester's to never go into battle with an untried weapon, and right now that was all Dean had. He relocated his small arsenal to the dining room table and studiously began breaking each weapon down; checking that they were clean and that their firing mechanisms appeared to be in good working order. Truthfully he would have liked to have taken them all in the back yard and fired a few rounds through each, but while this property appeared isolated, Dean had no idea who his gunfire may attract and they didn't need any civilians in the mix.

Once he was satisfied with each of the guns, Dean began emptying out the buckshot from the shotgun shells and replacing it with rock salt. It felt good to do these very routine tasks. Dean had been doing tasks just like these since he was a child and there was something comforting about the familiarity of this work. John Winchester had been a hard task master, even when Dean was a boy, but his disciplined teaching had ensured that Dean's work was second to none.

As Dean inspected his handiwork, he felt gentle hands on his shoulders, and at the Doc's touch, Dean felt the immediate connections into the power of this valley. He leant back in his chair, resting his head against the Doc's stomach as she continued to rub his shoulders.

He closed his eyes and just revelled in the sensation of the Doc's touch. It was an intimate gesture, one Dean was acutely aware he had never shared with anyone else, but he found that he liked it...a lot. It took a kind of familiarity, a kind of connection to touch each other like this. This was beyond the desperate groping need he had experienced earlier; this was true affection...It was sad to say but Dean had never felt strongly enough about anyone else to even allow such a thing.

Hannah couldn't help but smile as she sensed the contentment that touched Dean's mind for a moment. He didn't indulge in the sensation for too long, his mind was focused, his priority was Sam, but he could not hide from her how amazing he found her simple gesture.

In truth, she was surprised that she had done it in the first place. Hannah's family had never been overtly affectionate with each other. They had loved each other dearly, but there was always a kind of reservation when it came to displays of affection. She had never been affectionate with any of her other lovers...it just didn't occur to her. Maybe it was their circumstance, maybe it was what they were about to try and achieve, but Hannah had come to Dean to offer comfort and to be comforted in return...a first for her also.

"What's the time?" Dean questioned absently as he felt the Doc's fingers running through his hair.

"Almost nine?"

"Do you need some help with something?"

"No" said Hannah, allowing her hands to rest on Dean's chest, her arms almost cradling his head. "I've done everything I can do to protect this house and all of the preparations for the spell are done, we just need to wait until close to the night's energetic high point."

"Midnight?" questioned Dean

"Actually it is a little closer to eleven. Midnight being the witching hour is a myth."

"So we have a couple of hours to kill?" said Dean a mischievous smile curling his lips at the corners. "Whatever shall we do?"

Hannah smiled down at Dean, but the smile didn't touch her eyes. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't mask her growing agitation and with their empathic bond strengthened in this part of the world, Dean could feel it as if it were his own fear.

"Well I was thinking" Hannah began "that considering that very nice rancher's wife had already started dinner before we turfed them out of their house, the least we could do is eat it for them."

Dean groaned with delight at the thought of food. He had been hungry for most of the day, but other priorities had come before satisfying his appetite, so now he was really hungry.

"Wouldn't want it to go to waste" Dean agreed "Just out of interest, what's on the menu?"

"Pot roast with homemade gravy, oven roasted vegetables and freshly baked corn bread." Hannah replied

Dean smacked his lips together in a rather dramatic gesture of approval. "I love these frontier folk. They sure know how to eat."

"I'll go plate it up and I'll call you when it's ready."

Hannah disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Dean with the small arsenal that he had prepared. He loaded the shot gun with rock salt rounds and then he carried it up stairs with the Winchester hunting rifle. While the Doc was pretty new at hand guns, from memory she handled a rifle pretty well.

From what Dean could tell, the Doc had chosen one of the guest rooms to set up the dark alter required for the spell. He imagined that she had done this for a couple of reasons. The room looked out over the front of the property, so should anything come at them from the front, they could easily see it coming. This room also had two access points and was close to the stairs so the exit strategy was clear and straightforward. To top it all off, the room had a massive dressing table with a mirror the size of a big screen television. This room was almost purpose built for what they were about to do.

The Doc had already bought the canary's cage upstairs and in a strange way that kind of made Dean feel absolved of the tiny birds necessary death. He leant over where the cage sat on one of the bedside tables.

"I'm really sorry about this Tweety" he said as the little bird fluttered excitedly around in his cage. "It's nothing personal."

With that, Dean put the guns on the bed and headed back down the stairs. He stopped when he reached the bottom as he was assaulted by the divine aroma of dinner. He froze taking a massive breath into his lungs.

"Smells good Doc" he said fervently.

"I wish I could take credit for it" she called from the kitchen.

He followed the sound of her voice into the kitchen, and saw her just as she was placing the meals on the rustic kitchen table. She had raided the Rancher's refrigerator and a bottle of Miller was open and sitting next to his place setting. Dean looked at the little scene of domesticity laid out before him and realised that this was something that he had never experienced in his entire life. He had never missed this or longed for it, but it certainly was a rather novel thing to try.

"So this is how normal people live?" He muttered as he pulled out his chair and sat down.

"I wouldn't know" replied Hannah with a slight smile "I've yet to find what normal is."

"Come on Doc, this looks like a scene straight out of the Walton's"

"Was that the one with the blind girl and John Boy?" asked Hannah as she sat down to her own meal.

"Blind girl was 'Little House on the Prairie'." Dean replied madly cutting into his meal like he had been without food for a week.

"Oh" she said with a look of slight confusion on her face "And that was a different program?"

Dean looked incredulously at her for a moment "Come on Doc, given your extensive education I would have put money on the fact that you knew the difference between the Walton's and Little House'".

"Well I didn't really ever see them as a child, I was bought up on Blue Peter and Basil Brush."

Dean stopped mid chew staring blankly at her. "Never heard of them."

"I'm not surprised." Hannah said ruefully "They weren't exactly England's big contribution to international pop culture. We reserved that dubious honour for the Teletubbies and the Spice Girls"

"What were you like as a kid Doc?" asked Dean, intending to make light conversation, but discovering that he was actually quite interested in her answer. Even though he had seen her memories, had knowledge about her that no one else could possibly have, he still couldn't picture her as a kid.

"I don't know" said Hannah slightly taken back by the question "I guess I was like most children really."

"Come on...give me something more than that."

"Like what? What exactly do you want to know?" she asked

"I don't know...Where did you go to school; what did you want to be when you grew up; what stuff were you into? Because I've got to be honest Doc, I can't picture you as a kid...at all."

Hannah smiled as Dean took another healthy mouthful of food and began chewing away at it.

"Well... I went to St. Benedict's primary school first and then I went to St. Agnes of the Field Public School; was taught by nuns for the better part of my life. I rode horses when I wasn't at school and I wanted to be the world's first female Formula One driver when I grew up. Is that what you were looking for?"

It came out in a rapid stream of words, but Dean couldn't help but be amazed. Instead of making his picture of the Doc clearer, all it did was fill him with more questions.

"You wanted to be a race car driver?"

"Well Michael had wanted to be an F1 driver since he was a toddler and everything Michael wanted...so did I."

"Really?" said Dean in surprise "I can't imagine you with a speck of dirt on you let alone all sweaty and covered in oil" His face split into a cheeky grin, his eye shifting to the ceiling as he thought about what he had just said "Actually scratch that... I can picture you sweaty and covered in oil, I just can't see you racing cars. That's a pretty tough gig and you're so..."

Hannah watched Dean expectantly as he searched for the right words to describe her. He looked at her for a moment his eyes holding a cross between an apology and a plea.

"You know...dainty." he finally finished

"Dainty?" Hannah replied, one eyebrow arched high on her face.

"Girlie?"

Hannah laughed as Dean tried to back pedal away from the statement.

"Ladylike?"

"Despite what you think Dean, I wasn't always this prim and proper when I was growing up. I was actually a proper little tomboy."

"Are you serious?" Dean said in surprise

"Completely" Hannah said sincerely "I'm not exaggerating when I say everything Michael did I wanted to do. When he was twelve Michael learnt how to play polo, I wanted to learn too, so I pestered my mother until she agreed to let me have riding lessons. But she only conceded that if I agreed to learn dressage."

"Dressage?" he questioned with a look of confusion

"You know... horse, top hat, making the horse do specific things as you ride around an arena in front or pretentious judges."

"Oh yeah...Crazy Olympic sport...right?"

"That's the one. Well I soon figured out that she wasn't going to ever let me play polo so I did jumping and cross country events instead, because that was what Michael did. Pretty much the year after he got his driver's licence, Michael was actively driving rally cars, and while I wasn't allowed to drive for another three years I signed on to be his navigator because I wanted to be involved."

"So what was it? A little bit of sibling rivalry?" asked Dean, watching the delicate way that Hannah was eating in comparison to his fork and shovel technique.

"No far from it." Hannah said with a smile "If you had ever met Michael, you would understand. Everyone wanted to be like him. He was good at everything he did, but it never made him arrogant. He was kind and funny and made just being with him fun. He never treated me like the annoying little sister who was always just tagging along even though he should have because that was exactly what I was. He was just naturally a good hearted person."

As Hannah spoke Dean could see the unyielding love and admiration that she still felt for her brother on her face. He could hear it in her voice and read it in her eyes. In fact this discussion about her brother had made the Doc more animated than he had ever seen her before.

"My parents just adored him." she said with a wistful sense of pride "He was the epitome of perfection as a first born son and heir."

"I'm sure they were pretty proud of you too." said Dean fervently, wondering how anyone could possibly feel any differently about the Doc.

"Oh, they certainly loved me, of that I have no doubt. I just think that my mother despaired allot that I wouldn't become the lady of manners and breeding that a family that has our wealth and social status should produce. I either had my nose in a book or in some pursuit where I was going a hundred miles an hour with my hair on fire."

"Well you sure showed her." replied Dean raising his beer bottle up in a salute.

"No not really" said Hannah, her voice was even but her eyes firmly glued to her meal "I really only started making a real effort after my parents died. She never saw me as you do now."

At her words, Dean nearly choked on the portion of beef that he had just put in his mouth. He had been trying to be supportive and encouraging, but somehow he had managed to put his foot right in it. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, clearing his throat and taking a brief moment to work out a way to set this right again.

"I saw a picture of you once" he said hoping that he could redirect her attention to a more pleasant train of thought. "You and Michael had just won some rally and it was a photo of you two on the winner's podium."

As Hannah smiled in recognition of what he was talking about, Dean almost audibly sighed. He hadn't meant to upset her in anyway, in fact he was seriously trying to keep her mind occupied before they undertook the spell, but it would do no good to exchange one source of anxiety for another.

"That must have been the British Isles Charity Enduro...you saw that?" she asked

"Yeah it was back when we first met...I was checking you out."

Hannah looked up from her meal and smiled "You were 'checking' me out?"

"Strange woman shows up in the middle of a hunt, you damn straight I was checking you out." replied Dean with mock seriousness. As if to emphasise the jovial nature of the statement he winked at Hannah before taking a long draw on his beer.

"How long ago was that?"

Hannah thought for a moment her eyes looking up as she accessed her memories. "I had just finished my Honours year so it must have been at least 6, almost 7 years ago now."

"You guys looked like you were having a lot of fun." he said as a basic observation, but he could see Hannah nodding her head out of his peripheral vision.

"Oh yeah we did. Seven sectors in seven countries, it was a miracle that Michael and I even finished, we laughed our way around that whole rally."

"Not only did you finish, but you won." said Dean smiling, pleased that the Doc was still talking openly about her brother.

"Well I should clarify...We didn't exactly win, we just won a particular category in the Sector in Scotland."

"Even so" replied Dean, his eyebrow raised high "That's pretty impressive."

"I guess" Hannah said quietly "We weren't really competing too hard, Michael was just sort of testing the waters...you know seeing if we had the fortitude to do the Dakar."

Dean whistled slightly, impressed by their ambition "You ever do it?"

"No" Hannah said pushing her meal around the plate with her fork "I ended up going back to school to do my Masters and Michael started getting some success in the European open cart series, so we never got around to it."

"I reckon Sam and I could do something like the Dakar" Dean said absently "We can certainly cover the miles."

"Maybe, but Errol would never have survived it."

"Who?" asked Dean having a horrible suspicion that he already knew.

"Your Impala...I've named him Errol, after Errol Flynn, they're both dark sleek and incredibly dashing." There was a teasing light in Hannah's eyes.

"OH HELL NO! You are not calling my car Errol. My car needs a butch name like the Destroyer or Warrior King...not a girly name like Errol."

"Errol isn't a girly name."

"Wanna bet" contested Dean

"Well I thought naming him after Errol Flynn was appropriate, seeing as how they are both super sexy."

Dean scoffed "Excuse me but any man that wears tights for any reason looses all sexy points instantly."

"I think most women would disagree." said Hannah, smiling as she took a long sip from her drink. "Hell they did disagree, its historical fact that the man got more pussy than a veterinary hospital."

At her unexpected words, Dean nearly choked on his beer. When he managed to swallow he couldn't help laughing. She laughed too and he could almost feel the tension that was hanging over them dissipate a little.

They continued chatting, exchanging stories and witty little quips. In the privacy of this remote ranch in Utah, Dean could see the carefully crafted pretences that the Doc clung to, start to fall away from her one layer at a time. Dean knew the Doc from her memories and from the experiences that they had shared, but for the first time since he had met her he really felt like he was getting to know her.

Dean glanced at his watch and noticed that it was a little after 10pm. Hannah caught where his attention moved and sighed.

"I know" she said gravely "We should be making a start. I'll pack this stuff away if you wouldn't mind making sure that our stuff is ready to go. I have no idea how long it will take before the demons show up."

"Yeah" conceded Dean, pushing his chair back and carrying his plate to the kitchen sink.

"Anything else you need Doc?" he asked rinsing off his plate and putting it on the side board.

'_To be anywhere else but here'_. Hannah thought instantly and then checked herself. Dean needed her help and she would not turn from him for any reason....particularly because she was terrified.

"No" she simply answered.

As Dean turned to head out of the kitchen Hannah found his name on her lips rushing out almost as a plea. He stopped abruptly spinning around and pinning her with his eyes.

"You have to promise me something."

"Sure Doc" he said expectantly "What is it?"

"If something goes wrong...if I start to... if I look like I...." Hannah stumbled over her words trying desperately to find the best way to ask him.

Dean strode over to her, large confident steps and took her by the arms.

"Doc nothing is going to go wrong." He said adamantly "I won't let it."

"You might not be able to stop it." she replied her voice sounding empty "And I will not be a puppet again. I just can't do that. So if that is how this plays out you take out your gun and put a bullet between my eyes and you do not hesitate."

"I'm not going to sh........" Dean protested

"Promise me!" Hannah insisted

"Doc, we are not having this conversation" said Dean definitively, his face shifting into a hard mask. "It is not even an option so you can stop talking about it right now...do you understand me."

Dean blew out an agitated breath, rubbing his hand over his face as if he could somehow dislodge his stern expression with the palm of his hand. When he looked back at the Doc, he felt a small swell of guilt in his chest, he hadn't meant to snap at her, but what she was suggesting was inconceivable.

"It's going to be alright." said Dean more gently. He knew the Doc was just speaking out of fear...hell he could all but feel her fear hanging over them like a rain cloud. "I'm not going to let anything happen I swear it."

Dean smiled rubbing the Doc gently on the arm, she started slightly at his touch as if it almost burned her, but when she raised her eyes to his, he saw a hard edged pragmatic poise and determination.

"Alright" she said her voice devoid of emotion "I'll see you upstairs in a few minutes."

Dean nodded once and then head out of the kitchen. He packed up their gear apart from the essentials and had it in his duffle by the door for a quick exit. He then double checked that all the doors and windows were locked. That wouldn't exactly stop a demon, but why make it easy for them.

Once Dean was satisfied, he made his way up to the upstairs bedroom where the Doc was laying out all of the things that they would need for the spell. She had moved Tweety's cage over before the mirror and laid out the bowl and knife so that she could reach it easily.

"Are you ready?" Hannah asked, her voice dull but firm.

"As I'll ever be" replied Dean, picking the shot gun off of the bed and pumping it once to engage the cartridge.

**

* * *

**

Tuba City, Arizona – 10:48pm

Sam walked a step behind Mel and Isabelle as they crossed the street towards the biker bar. As the trio had waited in the truck watching from across the street, the bar had gotten increasingly as packs of bikers arrived from all direction converging on the small building in the middle of the desert.

"Remember Sam" Isabelle said curtly "Do exactly what I say, when I say it."

Sam resisted the urge to growl a little at the girl. She had made them sit firstly in a hotel room and then in the cab of the truck for hours on end without so much as a single word of explanation. Now they were heading to face a demon, in a bar full of civilians and they had not even discussed with him what the plan was.

To say that Sam was uncomfortable with how this was playing out was a complete and total understatement. He and Dean had 'worked off the cuff' before, in fact it happened so frequently that one might argue that it was their modus operandi, but the difference was that Sam knew Dean so well he could anticipate how his brother would react and what he would do. As he walked behind the two girls, Sam had no idea what he was walking into.

Isabelle led the trio, her tiny legs walking purposefully up the stairs. A pair of dark skinned natives, with thick tattooed arms and long blue black hair, stood by the door, smirking as they watched the elfin creature stride towards them.

"You lost?" one called, his gaze moving between Isabelle, Mel and Sam

"The grade school's back towards town." the other chortled, elbowing his companion in the ribs.

Sam watched the two big men, mentally preparing himself for trouble. If the two at the door decided to make trouble for them, it isn't the girls that they would go after; it would be the tall man at the back that proved to be their target.

"Leave...Now" commanded Isabelle in the voice of both the child she appeared and something else all together.

Sam watched fascinated as both men hesitated for a moment, their eyes widening and their mocking grins melting from their faces. Isabelle made a subtle move forward and Sam felt a swelling of power emanate from the childlike being. His skin tingled with it as it rushed over him.

The two large men, backed away from Isabelle at a rapid rate, one bustled past her down the stairs nearly falling in his haste and in his efforts to put as much distance between himself and the tiny girl. The other didn't even bother with the stairs, placing one large hand on the railing that enclosed the bars veranda and vaulting his large frame straight over the top. He stumbled slightly as he landed on the ground, but his momentum carried him towards the parking at a full out sprint.

Sam watched them leave, relieved that he didn't have to get in a fight with them, but not for the first time did he start to wonder just who was Isabelle and what exactly could she do. If Sam had felt the swelling of her power, he had no doubt that the demon within had most certainly felt it. If their plan had any requirement for stealth of surprise, well they could kiss that goodbye now.

Isabelle continued walking up the stairs and both Mel and Sam fell into step behind her. She walked through the door of the bar and there was a moment where, just like in a cliché western, the whole bar stopped to turn their collective focus on the new comer.

Isabelle held all of their gazes for an extended minute, then she let her eyes scan the room and they fell on the huge man that was this demons host, seated at a small table in a shadowed corner of the bar. Sam was surprised that no one challenged them in any way, but no one spoke as they watched Isabelle cross the bar room floor with determined little strides.

As soon at the trio had cleared the door, Sam felt movement behind him and he turned quickly, his hand going to the gun that he had pushed into the waist band of his jeans. But instead of the attack that he had expected, Sam witnessed a mass exodus of all the patrons in the bar. If he had thought their entrance was straight out of a spaghetti western, the scene he watched unfolding made him feel like he was actually living in 'The Outlaw Josey Wales'.

Sam turned his eyes back on demon that sat in the corner and watched as the big man slowly found his feet. A short distance and a flimsy table still separated them, but Sam felt the swelling of power as these two entities sized each other up.

"I had heard rumours that you had taken this road, but I didn't believe it." said the man, his voice was heavily accented in the way of the native people of the area, but it was gravelly and seemed to echo through the barrel like chest with an ominous growling quality.

"You have grown arrogant and careless Zaphaal" said Isabelle in a manner that Sam thought was more a conversational observation than any kind of threat.

"Being called arrogant is rich coming from you. You think to make use of Azazel's chosen? You're a fool"

"Azazel is dead and gone, and you shall soon follow him." Isabelle replied, yet her voice was less threatening and more the sing-song taunting of a little girl.

* * *

**Valley of the Gods, Utah - 10:53pm**

Hannah had laid the grimoire open before the mirror and placed the silver bowl just above it. She had laid a rough semicircle of beeswax candles around the whole thing, and the cage containing the canary was within easy reach of the black alter that she had created.

"Kill the lights please." She asked of Dean absently, taking a piece of chalk out and drawing an arcane symbol on the black fabric that she had found to cover the dressing table.

Dean remained silent as she began speaking. He did not recognise the language, but the Doc seemed to know it well enough as it tumbled from her tongue with a lilting melodic ease. He watched her reflection in the massive mirror and noticed that her eyes had shifted to the swirling silver as the power started to grow. His skin tingled with the increase of energy and the hairs on the back of his arms stood up on end, but he didn't take his eyes from the Doc.

Her face was a mask of concentration, as she spoke. Then she picked up the knife and opened up her palm, but before she could draw the blade across it, Dean gripped tight onto her shoulders. As he made the connection with her, every muscle in his body tensed under the sudden power that coursed through him. Hannah looked up, her quicksilver eyes meeting his in the mirror.

"Not the hand" Dean said trying to control his voice as the power coursed through him. "Takes too long to heel and impedes your dexterity. The forearm...here" he said holding out his left arm in offer to her.

Hannah nodded once curtly and handed Dean the knife. With practised ease Dean ran the sharpened hunting blade over the soft flesh of his forearm, careful not to let the knife bite too deeply into his flesh. At first only a thin red line appeared on his skin, but as he pumped his hand once or twice, blood welled up from the controlled cut.

Picking up the silver bowl, Hannah caught the blood as it rolled over the curve of Dean's arm, she spoke a few more words, nodding to him as if in thanks for his contribution. Then she took the knife from him and repeated the act across her own arm. Dean winced as Hannah applied a little too much pressure on the blade of the knife, cutting deeply into her flesh.

Her words faulted for a fraction of a second as she dealt with the sudden pain and then she held her wound, which flowed freely with blood, over the silver bowl adding her own offering to Dean's. Picking the bowl up and holding it in both hands, Hannah continued to recite the spell, her eyes continually going back to the grimoire to ensure that she had it right.

As she reached for Tweety's cage, Dean had to school himself not to wince. The tiny bird flapped within the confines of the cage. It clearly felt the strange energy that was flowing through the room and no doubt the sudden sent of blood probably had its 'fight or flight' instincts going on overdrive.

Carefully Hannah opened the cage door. It took her a few moments to trap the tiny fluttering bird in one corner of the cage so that she could get a firm hold on it. She bought the tiny creature out, and the only thing of it that Dean could see was its tiny head. Its eyes were wild and it swung it head from left to right, still looking for a way to escape what it recognised as its coming death.

Hannah placed the bird on the black alter in the middle of the arcane pattern and was careful to hold the struggling bird with a firm palm over its body. Inside she was weeping for the tiny creature, if she could have, she would have made sure the little thing was not conscious for what was to come next, but unfortunately the power of the spell was dependant on the fear in the last few seconds of life.

She held the bird still for a moment, its struggles becoming more and more frantic. Then holding its wings brutally to the dressing table, she picked up the hunting knife and drove it into the tiny creates chest. The bird kicked twice, the first time as death took it and the second a response of muscles already keyed for movement but no longer driven by the life spark.

She picked up the tiny body, holding it over the votive bowl and allowing the birds blood to trickle past the feathers stained a red black. Once she had put enough of the creature's blood in the votive bowl, she laid the bird's body to the side, her touch and care almost reverent.

Dean watched as Hannah dipped her index finger into the mixing of blood and swirled it around, reciting words with a strange humming cadence to them. Her finger had made maybe three or four revolutions within the bowl when she pulled it out and used her bloodied finger to trace over the chalk lines of the arcane symbol on the clothe.

That being done, Hannah put the bowl back in the centre of the newly bloodied symbol and again using her index finger began drawing symbols on the mirror in front of her. Dean kept his eyes on her face, but while the Doc was looking and seeing what she was doing her consciousness was elsewhere, it was clear in the slack set of her eyes and cheeks.

**

* * *

**

Tuba City, Arizona – 10:59pm

At Isabelle's words, Zaphaal's host body seemed to shake with barely suppressed rage. With the deliberate slowness that seemed to dictate all of his movement he raised his hand and Sam began to sense a glow emanating from the tips of the man's fingers.

Unsure of exactly what to expect, Sam shifted his weight to balls of his feet, readying himself for just about anything.

"Stand firm." He heard Isabelle whisper and he knew that was for his benefit not Mel's.

Sam continued to watch the demon as the white glow grew increasing in intensity and brightness until the man was completely engulfed by it. But the light didn't stop; it continued to expand, flowing out from the man in waves.

As the light touched his skin, Sam felt warmth spread across him. He clenched his teeth expecting as the light increased in intensity, so would the heat. But when he was forced to close his eyes against the extremity of the light, he was surprised that his body felt no worse than when he gotten a bad sunburn, and as the light receded, that discomfort went with it.

"You are not strong enough Zaphaal." Sam heard Isabelle say, even though he still couldn't see as his eyes readjusted.

"Your ego was always greater than your ability."

As Isabelle, finished taunting the man, Sam's eyesight was beginning to clear and for the first time, he saw fear slide across the big man's face.

"My turn." was all Isabelle said as she raised her tiny arm, holding out her palm, her finger spread as wide as the little digits would go.

There was a moment where Zaphaal shuddered, as if he had been hit by some unseen force and then Sam saw his whole body tense like and electrical charge was being passed through it. Power blossomed in the room a tangible thing, making the pictures on the walls of the bar vibrate at first and then bounce violently. This was Isabelle, he could feel it, and she was a fearsome creature.

As Sam let his psychic senses expand, trying to get an understanding of exactly what was going on here, he felt Mel's distinctive power converge with Isabelle's and flow towards Zaphaal. His mind working rapidly Sam tried to understand what was happening between the two girls.

He studied the energy around him, all of his senses flaring at the influx of information coming at him with locomotive force. If Isabelle's power could be quantified as the restraints, the Mel's power was like a scapple gutting through muscle and tissue for a goal that Sam didn't quite understand.

He turned his attention on the demon, desperate to find some understanding of what the hell was going on here and as he touched the man's body he felt the demon's oily presence writhing within the prison that this man's body had become. He was familiar with this feeling...he had felt the way a demon was within the body of a possessed human. Hell in Rhode Island and Reno he had ripped his fair share of them from those bodies.

But this wasn't what Isabelle and Mel were doing. He had thought of his exorcisms as like expelling cancerous cells, cutting a malicious tumour away from healthy flesh, but what Mel was doing was taking the tumour and breaking it down to its raw components. He followed her mental path as she led deeper into the oily blackness that was a demon to the energy that powered it. If Sam had to give it a name, he would have called it 'soul'.

Mel had led him to this point...a level of detail that he had never seen before. And while he felt her strength, it was clear that she lacked dexterity in what she was trying to do. If Sam understood correctly, Mel had put some of her energy within the demons 'soul' and was trying to break the thing down to its base element and the base element was...pure power. Energy so unrefined that it made Sam's blood hum.

"Help her" hissed Isabelle, the strain in her voice the first indication to Sam that this was in no way easy for the _vohu manah_.

Sam metaphysically pushed passed Mel and following what she had started, began breaking down and amalgamating the unrefined energy of this demon's essence with his own. It was like a chemical chain reaction that once he had started shifted the direction of the energy and started to push it back out.

Sam was vaguely aware of Isabelle's relieved gasp, but before he could give it any consideration, his body with filled with a euphoric rush that nearly caused him to lose consciousness. His blood hummed and rushed through his veins. His heart began beating wildly as the energy caught him. It was a sensation beyond human description. It was orgasmic in its ecstasy, yet physical orgasm didn't even come close to describing what was happening not only in his body but in the depths of his soul.

Sam felt his eyes roll back in his head and his teeth dug into his lower lip. His knees quivered threatening to give out at any second, but he was still riding the wave of energy that seemed to keep his body upright irrespective of his muscles. Sam felt alive in a way he had never done before, he could hear, smell, see and feel everything, everywhere.....'I am a God' he found himself thinking and then abruptly that power stopped, dumping Sam onto his knees.

* * *

**Valley of the Gods, Utah - 11:00pm**

Dean's eyes never left the mirror. At first he thought nothing was going to happen. He could feel the energy of this place, of this spell in the very pores of his skin, but the mirror had remain inert for nearly a minute and Dean's was beginning to think that perhaps the spell had not worked correctly.

As that thought passed through his mind, the mirror seemed to shimmer for a moment, like a waft of steam had hit the glass blurring all of the images within and then was slowly clearing. Dean saw a faint image in the class and he pushed close to the Doc in his attempts to try and make out what the image was.

"Doc?" was all Dean said, but when he made contact with her back, he could feel that she could see the image that was solidifying in the mirror in front of them.

Dean looked at the image confused by what he was seeing.

"Don't take your eyes off it." said the Doc through gritted teeth "I am going to try and boost the power of the spell."

In the reflection of the mirror, Dean could see Hannah's hands curl into fists. Her left arm was still bleeding and blood had run down her wrist and coated her hand. Dean felt the air around him crackle with a surge of power, then the Doc's head fell back as if the effort was causing her considerable pain, but thankfully his vantage point behind her meant that her head could rest on his shoulder. He put one arm around her waist in support, but kept his eyes on the faint images in the mirror.

With the surge of power, the image became more opaque and Dean could start seeing details. The image showed a building. He could see bottle necks at the lower part of the image and then the rest of the image seemed to open out to show a wood type structure.

Dean could see sturdy tables and chairs around the room and as he looked out what appeared to be the door to this place, he could clearly see a sign by a roadside. At this angle he couldn't make out the writing, but he knew that he must be looking through a mirror because all of the words were backwards. Frustration, made bile crawl up his throat. If he couldn't see where this was and he couldn't confirm who was there, this image wouldn't help them in the slightest.

"Doc, I can't see anyone....can we shift the angle at all?"

"I'll try." Hannah said through teeth clenched tight.

Dean felt Hannah's body tense even more, the effort bringing her up on her toes as if she was stretching to try and reach something with every fibre of her being. She would have definitely fallen if Dean wasn't bracing her body with his, but she felt the power around her and started trying to channel it in a way that would be productive.

Dean saw the image flicker for a moment, and his heart missed a beat as he feared that they were losing the connection, then the angle of the image changed and Dean could see some figures come into view.

Instantly he knew one as Sam. His brother's height and body shape was pretty unique and made it easy for Dean to pick him. He also saw the back of what was probable a girl or possible a short woman and in front of them he saw a child, diminutive in both her height and frame. A few feet away and facing them, Dean could see a mountain of a man, Native American in appearance, standing behind some mass produced wooden bar furniture.

As he watched, the Indian man raised his hand and a spearing white light filled the vision.

"What the fuck." muttered Dean, as he watched the figure become engulfed by the burning white light.

Dean's heart nearly stopped, impotent fury racing through him as he lost sight of his brother within the light. It was like the visual simulations that they do representing what the effects of a nuclear explosion would be and people, animals and building...just a flash of brilliant light and then nothing.

"Keep watching" Hannah muttered nearly moaning as the energy tore through her in a violent squall of power.

The light stayed intense for a few heartbeats and then began to recede again. As the picture began to reclaim its definition, Dean could make out that the three figures stood unchanged in front of the Native American man.

The tiny girl lifted her hand and it appeared to Dean, like the little thing had somehow managed to immobilise the giant that stood before them, in a way that he had seen both Sam and the Doc do. The slightly taller one also held out her hand, he head falling back slightly. An eternity seemed to pass and to his horror, Dean saw Sam do the same thing.

"Don't focus on it" the Doc muttered on a breathless voice "Look for something that will help us locate this place."

Dean tried, he looked to the photos on the wall and at anything that might have something on it to identify the location but his eyes were perpetually being drawn back to Sam. Strangely, Sam appeared similar as the Doc now appeared, his body contorted as energy ran through it, being held on a wave of power so intense it was almost taking him off his feet.

Dean watched his brothers face, looking for the same signs of agony, but Sam's face held bliss, an almost euphoric expression that was completely at odds with the tortured shape of his body.

"Do you have it?" said the Doc and guilt washed through Dean, because he had a sense that her energy was failing her.

"Just a bit more." He said, rewrapping his arm about the Doc's waist and providing her with as much physical support as he could.

**

* * *

**

Tuba City, Arizona – 11:06pm

Sam pushed up from where he had fallen on the floor, curbing an insane instinct to break into laughter. His body was working, but he felt like it no longer belonged to him...like he had somehow transcended the need to have a physical form and this thing of flesh and blood was a mere echo of what he once had.

His eyes found Isabelle's and the elfin creature smiled at him, her eyes dilated wide in pleasure. Looking over at Mel, the same thing was mirrored on her face as well.

"Now do you understand." said Isabelle, her childish voice roughened slightly in her euphoria.

And surprisingly Sam did. He had a clarity that he had never experienced before. He felt spiritually strong, and his abilities were almost burning within him. They had taken the energy that had been the building blocks of the entity known of Zaphaal and they had incorporated it into their own. Sam felt drunk on this feeling, wondering if this high would last of if it would die all too soon.

"The sensation dies, but the power remains." Isabelle said, clearly reading Sam's thoughts. "It is through this that we will make you strong enough to save your brother."

Sam couldn't help the smile that touched his lips. He felt invincible, beyond powerful and he knew without a moment's hesitation that he would save his brother. Sam watched as Isabelle moved over to where Zaphaal's host was slumped on the ground.

"Did he make it?" Sam asked, but was surprised to find that he had asked the question really out of habit and not through any real interest in the man's welfare. He thought for a minute that lack of empathy should worry him, but right at this very second, he felt so far removed from the petty realities of mere humans that it held no more value to him that the life of a blowfly or mosquito.

Isabelle looked up at Sam and shook her head fatalistically.

"Zaphaal fought too hard, did too much damage to the body."

"Oh well" said Mel, verbalising the same kind of apathetic response that Sam was feeling.

Sam watched as Isabelle's eyes seemed to narrow slightly and she stared at something just past his shoulder. Sam turned to see what had caught her eyes, and for a moment thought that he could see Dean and Hannah, in the mirrored tiles that lined the wall behind the bar.

Isabelle cursed in a language that was unfamiliar to Sam and then he felt a swell of power that he was beginning to identify as distinctly hers. If her power been fearsome earlier, after vanquishing Zaphaal, it was positively terrifying.

Sam felt an animosity so intense it was almost palpable being directed towards the mirror.

"What the hell is that?" he had the sense to question, more curious by the strange image of his brother with the Doc.

"Your brother is using the demon whore to scry for us." replied Isabelle taking a few menacing steps towards the bar.

Surprise and anger sparked quickly within Sam igniting a reserve of power that was still crawling over his skin like flames. He found himself adding to Isabelle's power, wishing with all that he was worth that the Doc would just drop dead so that he could get on with the business of saving his brother.

* * *

**Valley of the Gods, Utah - 11:11pm**

Dean could see the moment that they had been sprung. It was the child that alerted him, her eyes narrowing and looking straight into his like he was standing across the room, not on the other side of a mirror. Then Sam turned, with a look so cold that Dean's blood almost thickened in his veins.

Dean had seen his brother angry, hell he had even seen him possessed by a demon, but never had the younger Winchester looked more fearsome than he did right in that moment, and it gave Dean pause...was this even his brother anymore?

Hannah had been struggling with this spell for the last ten minutes. It had amazed her that they had not only managed to make a connection, but hold it for as long that had. She could only think it was the unique energy of this place that made it possible, but even with that it was draining her, eroding away at her in a way that was more dangerous that Dean could have ever imagined.

The dark nature of the magic had perverted the energy. Where before it had been beautiful, sexual and life affirming, the course of power had been channelled within her someplace dark, perverted and painful. The entity trapped deep within her had roared with delight at the influx of dirty oily power, but Hannah had staunchly held on to her control of her prisoner, even as its strength grew and her defences weakened.

Even though she was no longer watching the scene play out on the mirror, her physical connection with Dean let her know the precise moment when he realised they had been discovered. She made a quick attempt at trying to draw back the power, but before she could, white hot pain lance through her.

Dean felt Hannah jerk within his arms, a scream of such defined agony crawling up her throat that he couldn't help but wince. Dean shifted his hold on her, fearing that the contorted pull of her body would grow so intense it would surely crack her bones.

Hannah tried to protect herself against the attack, but there was absolutely nothing she could do. She was too tapped into the power and too exposed to Sam and the others through the scrying spell to put up any blocks or shields to act as a buffer against the attack that hit her with the force of semi trailer.

She tried desperately to hold on the wards holding the darkness within her, but a detached rational part of her mind, that seemed to be the only functioning thing in there, soon told her that she never could in the face of this onslaught. This attack was not simply designed to kill her...it was to annihilate her very existence. Her next cognitive process was to pray for death before the entity could get free.

Hannah felt a moment of foreign exhilaration deep within her mind as the entity realised that her defences where now at the weakest they had ever been. She tried to will he heart to stop, or a blood vessel to burst in her brain ending her life, but she could only barely make those thoughts comprehensive let alone put the required abilities behind them to make them realities.

She felt the darkness within her, struggle against the last of its confinements and then she felt something strange. If she wasn't so sure that she was a heartbeat before dying, she could have sworn that she felt fear within the entity. For all of its desperation to escape, for all of the additional power that the dark spell had given it, the nature of the attack on Hannah from the three on the other side of the mirror it not only recognised, but it was frightened by it.

To her surprise Hannah felt the entity still within her. It no longer fought for freedom exactly, but Hannah could still feel its inflated power within her with the slim thread of rationale that had survived the attack so far. As another wave of agony coursed through her, Hannah went mindless with fear and pain for a moment, but then the pain receded enough for her to realise that not only had the entity stopped fighting against her...it was now feeding her its own reserves of energy so that she could try and protect herself against this onslaught.

Dean held Hannah in his arms, having no idea how to help her. Blood poured from her eyes, nose, ears and mouth, and she had screamed herself hoarse, so that now only and strangled growl left her throat.

Dean looked at the mirror at the three figures who were now watching him intensively. He looked Sam dead in the eye and for a moment there was an unspoken communication between the brothers like they had done so many times in the pass. For Dean the exchange was about making his brother understand that if he continued to hurt the Doc, brother or not, Dean would never forgive him. He read in Sam's eyes, that his brothers honestly believed he was doing it to help him.

"Don't" mouthed Dean, shaking his head slightly. He saw Sam's eye's shift with uncertainty and what ever happened it seemed to be enough of a reprieve to allow the Doc to speak. Only it wasn't words passed her lips, it was words that formed directly in his mind...and more frighteningly Dean didn't recognise the voice as the Doc's.

'_Break'_ it muttered in a growling rasp.

"Break?" said Dean latching onto the word "Break what?"

'_Break'_ growled the voice again deep within Dean's mind _'mirror'_

Without hesitation, Dean drew back his fist and launched it at the dead centre of the mirror. The image died in a momentary flash of blue fire and then all he could see was the spider webbed cracks of the shattered mirror.

The Doc went limp in Dean's arms as the mirror broke, and he held her close to his body, stopping her from hitting the ground. He scooped her up quickly, his heart pounding with fear as he moved. She looked dead, her face grey and blood leaking from every orifice. He held two fingers to her throat looking for the tell tale beat of her blood and while it was very faint, Dean let out a relieved breath when he found it.

"Jesus Christ....Doc" he called holding her face between his palms. "Doc, can you hear me?"

She lay still and un-responsive to his words, but as Dean watched her face he was filled with an instinct to take her outside and lay her on the ground. It seemed like such a strange response, but the instinct was so strong, Dean was sure it was right.

Cradling the Doc's body close to his chest, he hit the stairs at speed, racing down to the bottom floor. He looked at the front door, contemplating taking her out there, but instead he decided it would be better in the yard out the back.

As he slammed out the back door and descended the veranda steps two at a time, the ugly one eyed cat lifted its head in curiosity and watched as he gently laid the Doc on the ground. Kneeling beside her, he brushed the hair from her face and waited patiently.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Those of Good Purpose**

**Day 284**

**Valley of the Gods, Utah - 2:14am**

An itch in the arch of her foot was what Hannah's psyche locked on to as the grey haze of unconsciousness slowly receded. She had no idea where she was or what had happened to her, but all she knew was that her foot was insanely itchy and her body was just not responding to her need to scratch it. The sensation in her foot steadily increased until she was all but screaming in the silent space of her mind.

Desperate to find relief, Hannah concentrated on her nonresponsive body. At first she felt nothing beyond the niggling constant irritation on the sole of her foot, but as she put more and more focus on the effort, she realised that her body felt strangely heavy, like someone had taken her bones and replaced them with lead pipe. It wasn't a painful sensation; it was simply the impression of weight in her limbs.

Then she focused on her flesh and skin. At first there was a mild tingle on her skin, like the feeling you get when goose bumps crawl across it. Then the feeling intensified and she could feel stronger pins and needles sparking through the flesh of her arms and legs. Again not a painful sensation per say...but it did feel weird, like there was a slight current being passed through her body that was making even the smallest muscle twitch.

Once she had managed to identify each sensation, quantify it and weigh up its cause, Hannah's mind began reclaiming control of her body, reconnecting with limbs that, up until now, had seemed to belong to someone else. She rubbed her feet together desperate to find some relief for the incessant itching that was tormenting her. When she nearly sighed with relief she felt gentle hands on her shoulder and on her face.

"Doc?" she heard, but it took a moment for her to focus in on the speaker.

"Doc are you with me?" the speaker was trying to be calm, but Hannah could feel a quiet apprehension in the words.

Instinctively Hannah tried opening her eyes, but her eyelids seemed sluggish and even when she had them open, her eyes moved aimlessly struggling to focus. She saw a face hovering over her, but the details were blurred and it was so damn dark she was having trouble seeing.

"Dean?" she said on a throat viciously dry, as a spark of inspiration shot through her.

She had been with Dean, Hannah suddenly realised as her memory kick started in a jolting jump of scrambled sensory messages.

"Thank God." She heard Dean mutter and then she was surrounded by him as strong arms pulled her close and held on to her with the merest hint of desperation.

Hannah wanted to circle him with her arms, but as her brain rebooted; her arms were not functioning at her command, so she lay limply in his embrace still confused by everything that was going on around her.

Dean gently lay her body back down on the ground and he stroked back her hair, leaving his hand to linger on her face for a moment. It was then that Hannah realised, she was outside on the ground. There was something under her head protecting her from the hardness of the ground, and a patchwork quilt had been spread across her to protect her from the cold desert evening.

Having trouble getting her brain to register properly, Hannah focused on why she was on the ground. She could feel the cold hardness of the ground beneath her inert limbs, but beyond that she could feel the tingle of power. It was both a strange yet greatly comforting feeling to connect with the buzzing that was bubbling from deep within the earth. At that connection Hannah felt a swamping of power, racing at her like it was water running down the river banks to a river bed that had been dry for too long.

Hannah gasped at the sensation, again it wasn't painful, but the mad draw of power that filled her body coincided with a torrent rush of memory that filled her mind and the combined magnitude overwhelmed her for a moment.

They had cast the spell and managed to find Sam, but the effort had left Hannah vulnerable to attack. Her last conscious memories were willing herself to die as she realised that she was losing her grip on the dark entity that she had trapped deep within her mind. But it wasn't free, of that she was sure, if it was surely she would know about it. Surely it would have taken control of her and used her body while she was helpless?

Out of habit when her thoughts went to the entity, she ran through the process of pumping energy into the entrapment wards, strengthening the defences that caged the darkness deep within her mind. As she did so, she could feel how depleted those defences had become. The entity could have broken through...should have broken through. Why hadn't it? What was it playing at? As Hannah focused on the warded cell in her mind, she got the distinct impression that not only was the entity completely drained of its power, just as she had been, but that it was cowering in a corner of the cell that it hated with unrestrained venom.

Hannah found it difficult to quantify the relief that she felt at that, for surely this had been the closest she had ever come in the last two and a half years to losing her tenuous hold on the creature, but she was also curious as to the outcome. It defied logic why the creature hadn't escaped and used her as it always promised that it would.

With deliberate analytical processing, Hannah put that thought aside. She knew that she couldn't answer it now, so she would have to park it until she had the intellectual and physical fortitude to address it. She turned to look at Dean who was watching her with single minded intensity.

Calling on her leaden body, she reached out for him, silently asking him to help her sit up. Without hesitation he was there with a hand around her shoulders helping her, and when it was clear that her muscles probably wouldn't hold her up under her own volition, he shifted his body so that he was behind her, bracing her smaller frame with his own.

At the movement, Hannah's head swam for a moment, but it cleared faster than she expected it to and while she felt a general weakness in her limbs, the energy pouring into her from the earth beneath her was making her feel a lot better than she probably should under the circumstances. Whatever stroke of genius had prompted Dean to bring her out here, to connect her directly to the strange source of power, Hannah was incredibly grateful.

She leaned heavily into Dean and felt an overwhelming sense of security there. In looking down Hannah could see a huge amount of blood on her shirt, but when she touched her face, it was clean, washed clear of the blood that she knew should have been there. She also glanced down at her arm, where a thick white bandage covered the ritual wound that the spell had called for her to make. Dean had done this while she had been unconscious and Hannah shouldn't have been surprised by that...but for some reason she was.

"What time is it?" she asked looking at the clear desert sky that was filled with a plethora of stars.

"A little after two." replied Dean, glancing down at his watch as he spoke.

Almost three hours had passed since they cast the spell Hannah realised making the calculation quickly in her head.

"We need to destroy the grimoire" she said suddenly realising the new dangers that they would find themselves in as a result of the spell.

"Already done" replied Dean, rubbing his large hands up and down her arms gently as if he was trying to stimulate the blood in her arms to flow. "I just wrapped everything up from the alter and torched it." he said, pointing at a small smouldering pile of embers in the brick BBQ pit that had been built in the back yard.

"You didn't have any trouble getting it to burn?" Hannah asked, surprised that the book didn't have some sort of arcane defence inherently within it.

"Nothing that a whole bottle of lighter fluid couldn't fix." replied Dean and Hannah could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

"We held the scrying spell for a long time Dean" Hannah said gravely "I'm sure that every demon within a 100 mile radius will be making a B line for us. We should probably get moving as soon as possible."

Dean shifted at Hannah's back and she felt a wave of concern pass through him. "Are you sure you can be moved yet? I'm fairly certain I came pretty close to losing you for a while there?"

"Trust me, it wouldn't be my first choice, but I don't think it is wise for us to wait for them to come to us. Staying on the move is our best defence. A moving target is harder to hit."

At her words Hannah felt a pain start in the centre of her chest. She knew immediately that it was not her pain, but instead it was emanating from Dean.

"Problem is Doc" said Dean, and Hannah could hear the self recrimination in his words "I didn't get a bead on where Sam is. I was so focused on what he was doing and who he was with, that I didn't find anything to tell me where he was. We are no better off now than before we started that stupid spell."

Hannah reached across her body and lay her hand of Dean's bigger one where is rested on her arm. "I'm not so sure about that. We know more now that what we did before."

"Nothing useful though." said Dean with disgust.

"We know Sam isn't alone, that's something; although I didn't get the sense that you recognised the two girls."

"No....I've never seen them before." replied Dean, thinking back to the two he had seen with Sam in the mirror "Hell, I'm not even sure if they're human."

"The child isn't" Hannah said definitively "But the girl I couldn't get a read on...she felt human, but in some ways she didn't."

"Again, knowing that Sam is with them doesn't exactly help us find him. Damn it....I should have paid more attention"

"Don't beat yourself up over it Dean. It's done now...we will take the information that we have and do the best that we can with it."

Dean remained silent, but connected as she was with him, Hannah could feel the silent ass kicking that he was giving himself, and she knew instinctively that nothing that she could do would change that.

"Come on, we better make tracks" she said gently "Would you please help me up."

Ignoring her request, Dean slid an arm under her legs and lifted her from the ground with surprising ease. He carried her inside and insisted that she remain on the sofa while he got everything together for their departure. It didn't take him long at all, they had been prepared for the quick get away, but he took a little extra time, setting the ranch house back to the way it was when they arrived. There was nothing he could do about the shattered mirror in the upstairs bedroom, but he scribbled a note of apology and left it with all of the cash that he had on him on the kitchen table.

He wouldn't normally have thought to do that, but he knew it was what the Doc would have wanted to do, so he did it. When he went back into the lounge room, the Doc was dozing where he had left her on the couch. He hadn't wanted to disturb her, but as he entered her eyes flicked open and fixed on him.

"I'll go pull Charlotte around Doc." he said with a small smile, that didn't touch his eyes

When Hannah went to move he put a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into the sofa.

"Hang tight" he said, fixing her eyes with a firm look "I'll only be a sec."

To Dean's relief Hannah let her head fall back against the cushioned back of the sofa and let her eyes flutter closed. He hurried outside, collecting the duffle and small arsenal that he had left by the door on his way out. He hurried from the ranch house to the barn and quickly packed the stuff in Charlotte's trunk. Then he happened to notice a few barrels of petrol in the far corner, with a portable bowsers pump attached to one.

The rancher must have refuelled his quad bikes here and while it wasn't going to be the premium fuel that Charlotte was used to, he thought that it was probably a good idea to fill up her tanks so they could get as far as possible from dark spell ground-zero.

As Dean concentrated on filling Charlotte from the reserves of fuel, he didn't hear the approach of boots in the gravel of the drive way, until a stranger's voice suddenly filled the still night air.

"Kind of late to be working ain't it?" questioned a deep voice and Dean's head snapped up, his hand going to where his gun had been a few minutes ago, before he had stored it safely in Charlotte's glove compartment.

Cursing himself silently, Dean straightened his eyes narrowing on the figure that stood on the other side of the salt line that Dean had drawn in front of the barns doors. The speaker was an older man, not especially tall, but with thick set shoulders and muscular limbs.

His olive skin and blue black hair marked him as having Native American blood in his veins and as Dean studied him closer he noticed a badge at his belt, marking him as a lawman of the reservation

"Actually by my reckoning it is more early than late." Dean replied with more swagger than he felt, moving up to lean on Charlotte's gleaming bonnet a few feet from the salt line.

Dean had no doubt that this man was a vessel for some demon. It made no sense that the local reservation cop would be at the ranch house at 3 in the morning otherwise. He was safe in the barn; protected by salt lines at both entrances and the Doc would be safe in the house as long as she stayed put. The only problem was that they were separated and nothing good could come of that.

"I take it Taylor knows your helping yourself to his gas." said the older man a subtle smile curling his lips at the edges.

"Sure" said Dean with a broad smile "He's out the back in the dry stores; you can come on back and talk to him if you like."

The old man eyed Dean for a moment, eyed the salt line and then let his eyes meet with Dean's again.

"I'll wait." said the man smiling again.

"Thought so." said Dean, pushing away from Charlotte and taking his time securing the gas pump back in the barrel and her gas cap back on her tank.

'_Doc'_ Dean thought hoping to hell that Hannah could pick up on his mental call _'We got trouble'_

He felt a spark of recognition in his mind and then his consciousness was filled with the Doc's mental voice…_'I know'_ she replied.

===-----------===

Hannah had been slipping in and out of sleep as she sat on the sofa, letting her mind wander aimlessly, drifting between the two states. She could still feel the energy coming to her from the earth around her, but not being in direct contact with it had dulled the sensation somewhat.

All things considered she actually felt pretty good, but her body was weary and she could hardly blame it. The human body was just not designed to be a conduit of such power. That was why so many hosts died having been ridden hard by the demons possessing them. The grand irony of the universe was that flesh would always fail before the spirit did.

As she let her head loll to the side as sleep toyed with her senses, she got a strange sensations at the back of her head, where her spine connected to her skull. It was like the current that she was connected to had developed a sudden obstacle it had to overcome and she felt it swell and then be released as if it were now flowing over a metaphysical speed up.

The sensation wasn't alarming in any way, just different…different enough to make Hannah curious as to the change. Bringing herself completely out of the sleeping state Hannah sent her senses flaring out of the ranch house and across the surrounding land.

Immediately she felt Dean in the building opposite the ranch house and to her horror only a few feet from him, she felt the oily presence of something dark and unspeakable. The demons had come…as she knew they would.

She was on her feet fighting a wave of dizziness when she heard Dean's voice calmly in her head.

'_Doc…We got trouble'_

'_I know'_ she replied, projecting the words into his mind while taking a few tentative steps to the front door.

'_Stay put'_ he said and even his mental voice sounded commanding _'Let me handle this'_

'_You can't handle this alone'_ Hannah sent back _'The same power that is fuelling me, will be giving them strength too.'_

'_Great'_ replied Dean _'Like we didn't already have enough to deal with.'_

'_Is Charlotte ready to go?'_ Hannah asked formulating a plan in her mind as she took a deep breath and pushed her bodies fatigue out of her mind.

'_She is now…what have you got in mind?"_

Hannah smiled grimly to herself as she approached the front door. _'Just try and keep its attention on you.'_

===-----------===

Dean felt his mind go quiet and knew the Doc would be busy with whatever she had planned. With a relaxed air, Dean went to Charlotte's trunk and slipped the keys in.

"Tell me something." He called to the older man who stood just beyond the barn doors, as he reached into the trunk and calmly withdrew the shot gun from on top of the luggage. The spare shells were in his duffel, but he had two rounds and he would make them count.

"What?" replied the man, straining his torso slightly to see if he could catch sight of what Dean was doing.

Dean stepped out from behind Charlotte, closing the trunk and pulling the keys in one smooth motion while he rested the shotgun on his hip. The demons eyes looked to the gun that Dean carried and it smiled mockingly at him.

"It seems pretty clear that I know what you are, and I figure that by now you've figured out what I am." said Dean emphasising his words with a loud pump on the shotgun "So why bother with the normal eye bullshit. Why bother hiding what you really are?"

"An interesting sentiment coming from a human" said the demon as the dark brown eyes of the man were suddenly replaced with pure black "You know that gun isn't going to do jack shit to me, right?"

"I know" said Dean holding the shotgun up and bracing it against his shoulder. He didn't hesitate, didn't allow the demon to speak again, he just aimed for the torso of the man and pulled on the trigger.

The night silence was broken with the loud explosive force of gun fire and the demon took two steps backwards under the force of the blast. It looked incredulously down at the tiny bloody wounds that now covered its chest and then looked back at Dean, snarling fiercely, all pretences now forgotten.

"Rock salt rounds" said Dean with an air of satisfaction as he watched the wounds fester and smoke slightly "Sting like a bitch don't they?"

"I will rip you limb from limb you smart ass fuck" hissed the demon, straining at the salt barrier that covered the doors.

Dean rolled his eyes "Like I haven't heard that before….seriously Hell needs to employ some new script writers. You guys are becoming so cliché."

"I'm going to make you sorry that your mommy and daddy ever met boy." hissed the demon, its voice dropping an octave and gaining a strange otherworldly tone to it.

"I'm quaking in my boots" muttered Dean edging forward slowly. "Only one problem though."

"And what would that be?" questioned the demon, its head cocked at an unnatural angle, in a gesture that was more bestial than human.

"Me!" said a strong feminine voice into the quiet of the cold desert night.

The demon spun in its heel, turning eyes, wide with surprise, on Hannah who had silently manoeuvred herself up behind it.

With its attention firmly on Hannah, the demon didn't see Dean strike; wasn't prepared for the strong arms that encircled it, and while it had preternatural strength, it was no match for the combined strength of Hannah's mental hold and Dean's physical hold.

Hannah's eyes blazed with quicksilver light, as the words of exorcism rolled from her tongue loud and sure. The demon struggled against her and Dean's collective efforts at binding its host and when it discovered that it couldn't move its corporeal form, it opted for a strategic retreat. With no devil's trap to secure it, the demon turned to black oily smoke and escaped from its host, as the poor man wailed in agony.

Dean felt the man's body shudder in his grip as the man's head was flung back and demon smoked poured out of his nose and mouth. The smoke spiralled up in the air a few feet over their heads then shot off in the direction of the road.

"It'll be back." Hannah said with conviction as she watched it go, and as if her words were omens, two distinct demon smoke trails coalesced in the sky over the road and met up with the third that was beating a hasty retreat towards them.

"Fuck" Dean cursed, dragging the body of the man who had become a dead weight in his arms towards the barn.

"We gotta go Doc.....NOW!"

As Hannah moved, she staggered slightly before catching herself and continuing on, reminding Dean that the woman was only on her feet through force of will alone.

"Is he alive" Hannah asked her eyes turning to the older man that Dean was laying out on the floor of the barn.

Dean held his fingers to the man's throat searching for the life beat that pulsed just beneath his chin. Before he could find it though, the man groaned and Dean had all of the proof of life that he needed.

"Jump in the driver's seat and take her out." said Dean, holding out the keys to Hannah, who leaned heavily on Charlotte's metal sides.

"What are you going to do?" questioned Hannah looking dubiously at the keys now in her hand.

"Once you're out of the barn, I'm going to resalt the doors, so that they won't be able to get at this guy again."

Hannah nodded once in understanding and slipped in behind the wheel of her car. Charlotte roared with life as Hannah turned the key and with speed and efficiency drove the mustang out of the barn, stopping a few feet in front of the doors.

Hannah watched the oily black cloud that was only a few hundred metres away as it danced in the sky almost eager in its movements and her eyes shifted to the rear-view mirror where she had lost sight of Dean for a moment. When he reappeared he was carrying a heavy burlap sack in his hand. While she couldn't see exactly what he was doing, she figured out by his movement that the sack contained more salt, and Dean was giving the doors a liberal dosing.

"Come on.....come on" Hannah muttered under her breath as she saw Dean put the remainder of the contents next to the man inside and then hurry to pull the barn doors closed.

She turned her eyes back to the heavens, where the murky plumes of smoke where circling like raptors in the star laden sky. Any moment they would attack, and if Dean wasn't in the car, there would be almost nothing that Hannah could do to help him.

The smoking tendrils suddenly broke, diving towards them like a swooping bird on the hunt.

"Dean!" Hannah yelled; fear constricting her throat and making her words seem shrill.

He disappeared out of the mirrors sights as the smoke descended upon them. She heard the door being reefed open and Dean flung himself unceremoniously inside as the smoke tendril, ploughed into the space we he had been mere nano seconds before.

Charlotte shook violently from the force of the demonic attack.

"Punch it" Dean cried out over the squall that was roaring all around them.

Hannah didn't hesitate, pushing the gas pedal flat to the floor. The tyres spun for a moment, trying desperately to find traction on the loose gravel of the drive way, but Hannah pumped the gas subtly allowing the thick tyres to bite into the ground and launch the car off down the drive way.

Hannah couldn't see through the oily smoke that had enveloped them, so she was relying on her memory of the place and driving pretty much blind. As they picked up speed, Hannah managed to disrupt enough of the black smoke to get a brief glimpse of the road in front of the way in front of her. She had misjudge the trajectory slightly and had to correct rapidly or she was going to send Charlotte into the low lying fence that ran on either side of the drive up to the house.

The correction made the rear of the mustang fishtail on the gravelled surface, but without panicking or losing her composure, the Doc drove out of it, getting the car back under control, before making a hard right hand turn to put them back on the road.

Dean watched out the back window as the three plumes of smoke chased them as they drove, cutting through the sky like jet fighters that dove and swooped at them, as if testing the defences of the car.

"Is Charlotte protected in any way Doc?" asked Dean, his eyes shifting between the woman driving and the dark tendrils or smoke that where doggedly chasing them down the highway.

"Yes" Hannah said sharply, her concentration firmly on the road ahead of them "I knew I would be transporting grimoires in her, so I painted wards and protective spells under the prima before she was painted."

"Thank god for that." said Dean sitting forward again but moving his head to see behind him in the rear-view mirror.

"They've never been tested Dean. I honestly don't even know if they will work." Hannah said sharply and Dean noticed that when she was behind the wheel like this....she was all business

"Let's hope we don't have to find out." he finally said, wondering if they were just delaying the fight, which right at this moment, seemed inevitable.

**

* * *

**

Day 284  
Flagstaff, Arizona - 8:19am

Sam sat on one of the stairs near the deep stairwell that he had learnt represented the nerve centre of his own psyche. He drummed his fingers impatiently on his knee as he waited for his mother or for Mike to show up. They had made the drive from Tuba City to Flagstaff after slaying Zaphaal which hadn't been a problem at all as Sam had been so wired from their encounter he could have driven for the rest of the night and well into the next day without issue. In fact it had taken him hours to get to sleep because his blood still hummed with the power he had absorbed from Zaphaal.

Even in his dream state, Sam was having problems staying still and his legs bounced with barely restrain agitation as his patience was tested.

"God Damn it Mike" he called into the silence of the stairwell, his voice echoing in the cavernous space "Don't keep me waiting."

"He won't come" said a gentle voice from above where he was sitting on the stairs.

Sam sprung to his feet turning agilely as he moved, to see his mother dressed as always in the soft white cotton night gown that she had worn on the night of her death.

"Mom!" Sam said his face splitting into a wide grin as he mounted the stairs two at a time and embraced the diminutive figure of his mother, wrapping her up in his long limbs.

"My..." Mary said slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of Sam's greeting "Someone's in a good mood."

"I've done it" Sam proclaimed, taking a position two steps below his mother so that they were looking eye to eye. "I know how to save Dean."

Mary's face split into a broad smile as she cupped her son's face in her hands "Oh Honey...I always knew you would"

Sam embraced his mother again as she pressed gentle lips into his cheek.

"I knew you would" she repeated holding on to him fiercely "I'm so proud of you."

Sam let go of his mother and they sat together on the stairs. "Isabelle said that it's going to take me a little while to build up my strength, but soon I'm going to be strong enough to take on the demon that holds the contract on Dean and when I do, I'm going to destroy it."

"Isabelle?" Mary questioned, her face turning slightly puzzled.

"She is the '_Vohu Manah' that_ Mike talked about a couple of nights back. She's the one who taught me how to beat the demon who holds Dean's contract."

"Oh" said Mary with sudden understanding "She's the one he is so afraid of then."

"Yeah" said Sam smiling like a Cheshire cat up at his mother "And now I understand exactly why."

"I sort of feel sorry for him in a way." confessed Mary resting her chin in her hands as she studied her son with gentle eyes.

"Don't ever feel sorry for him Mom." said Sam vehemently "He's a demon; he deserves anything that he gets."

"He's a demon that gave me back my son" she said as she smoothed back the hair that fell across Sam's forehead and it was a statement that pushed the youngest Winchester into silent contemplation.

**

* * *

**

Tsegi, Arizona - 4:48 am

Dean and Hannah had driven nearly 50 miles before they were convinced that they were no longer being dogged by the tenacious tendrils of demon smoke. They had driven through the Mexican Hat and for want of a better destination had just continued heading south through the tiny town of Halchita, across the state border into Arizona and then through the Indian town of Kayenta, where they had been forced to decide whether to continue to head south west or start heading North East towards New Mexico.

At the time Dean had been really tempted to flip a coin and let the fates decide, but Hannah had rationalised that without having any new information to go from, they should keep heading in the same direction that they knew Sam had been going. She also reminded Dean that heading towards the more populated towns in New Mexico would probably put them at greater risk from the demons that were now attracted to them like sharks in bloodied waters. The demons would go where the people were and would not only use the people as weapons, but as shields too.

Hannah was still in the driver's seat sending them over the blacktop like a seasoned NASCAR driver. When the immediate threat had lessoned Dean couldn't help but be slightly impressed at the way she handled the car, especially as she looked like she was about to drop from exhaustion at any moment.

"You look beat to hell Doc" said Dean, he had said after they had driven for a solid two hours "Why don't you pull over and I'll drive for a bit."

Hannah didn't respond, but he could see her checking in the rear view mirror studying the dark sky behind them. Dawn would be on them in an hour or so, but now the sky was still inky black, making the tendrils of smoke that much harder to see. Dean felt her ease of the gas and she pulled Charlotte over to the shoulder of the road. Dean was out quickly, skirting around the car keeping his eyes on the sky.

When he reached the driver's door, the Doc still sat in the seat, her feet out and on the ground, but she looked unsure as to whether she trusted her legs to hold her or not. Dean reached down, circling her waist with his arm. He felt her take a hold of his shoulders and with his support she stood.

Dean didn't linger or endanger them by spending more time than he had to. With the Doc still clinging to his shoulders, he literally lifted her enough so that her feet were off the ground, then he hurried to the passenger's side and helped her in. Within a few heart beats he was back around the other side of the car and had slid in behind the wheel.

Hannah had slumped in her seat, finally giving reign to the exhaustion that she had been refusing to accept by force of will alone. She felt wrung out and empty and still carried this horrible feeling that they were far from being out of the woods yet. As she found a comfortable position for her head against the headrest, she reached out and rested her hand against Dean's thigh, needing the contact with him.

At her touch, Dean looked at the Doc. Her eyelids were drifting down heavily over her eyes. She managed to return his smile as he put his hand over hers where it rested on his leg. Dean pulled Charlotte back on the road and felt better for having a task to do.

He had been sitting next to the Doc, dwelling on the fact that he had no idea where to start looking for Sam and they had pretty much exhausted most of their options in terms of tracking him down. He had considered for a long time calling Bobby, but he wondered how the old hunter would feel about what Sam was doing and who he was with. Would Bobby help him, or would he unleash other hunters on Sam?

Dean had wrestled with the question since they had shaken their demonic pursuers until he had come to conclusion that he didn't honestly know how Bobby would respond, so all he could do now...was ask. Maybe Bobby would help him, maybe he would become another obstacle, but at the end of the day, Dean and the Doc needed help and Bobby was the only other hunter he trusted enough to go to. And if it all went bad he knew deep in his soul that Sam hadn't given him much of a choice.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - Those of Good Purpose**

**Tuba City - 5:24 am**

Dean pulled into Tuba City as dawn was lightening the sky in his rear view mirror. Out here in the desert, dawn painted the sky vibrant purples and oranges as it pushed back the inky blankness of night. Tuba city sat like an oasis pushing through the red dirt that bordered it on every side. Most of the buildings were only a single story, so it made the multi story hospital stand out like a beacon in the darkness.

Charlotte sped through the quiet streets, Dean ignoring the road signs and traffic signals, whenever he could. Tuba was the largest settlement that they had driven through in there exodus from the ranch and the number of people here made Dean nervous. With demons hot on their heels, the Doc was right; people became weapons and shields against them.

As he pulled up to the next intersection, Dean was half tempted to wake the Doc because he was forced to make a choice of either staying on the I160 or going down Highway 264 which would take them further south. Dean glanced down at the Doc, who was sound asleep beside him and figured that their direction now probably wasn't as important as they had no idea where Sam was. Making a split decision, Dean decided not to deviate from the I160 and headed straight on, eager to clear the city limits as soon as he could.

The buildings and houses of Tuba city began to thin as he reached the outskirts of the town and running parallel to the interstate, Dean saw a smaller road, being highlighted by the grey light that was filtering through from the breaking dawn. As he drove beside it on the highway, he noticed a small group of low lying buildings grouped together on either side of the road just near where the smaller road cut across the interstate. Dean didn't take too much notice of the small group of buildings, giving them a cursory glance in the rear-view as Charlotte hurtled past.

In the mirror by his head, Dean saw a tall sign out the front of one of the buildings and it triggered a flash of memory for him so acute it was almost painful

"Son of a bitch" Dean declared, pulling hard on Charlotte's parking break and sending the Mustang in a tyre squealing u-turn.

At his loud cry, the Doc was startled out of sleep only to be tossed wildly about in her seat as Dean threw Charlotte into an aggressive spin that pointed her nose back towards Tuba city. As the Doc was thrown about, her seatbelt snapped taught, holding her almost painfully in her seat as it dug into her neck and shoulder.

"What?" Hannah asked her disorientation making her voice sound slightly panicked.

Dean didn't answer; he just drove Charlotte down the small road, a look of grim determination setting his face into hard lines.

"Dean...talk to me." Hannah pleaded searching the sky for traces of the demonic smoke "Please"

"Here" replied Dean turning sharply into the parking lot of the building that he had seen in his rear view. "Recognise this?"

Hannah looked out her window at the building that was indistinct from the other buildings around it.

"No"

"I do" Dean said his voice hard and strangely quiet. "I saw it in the mirror last night."

Hannah turned wide eyes on Dean, but he didn't look at her, he just pulled the car up in front of the bar and slipped out from the driver's seat. He took the steps to the veranda two at a time and found himself standing in front of a pair of double doors.

There was a window on either side of the doors, so cupping his hands around his face; Dean peered in to see what was inside. He was sure this was the place, he recognised it with almost photo clarity, but this morning it looked so silent, so serene to him in the dim dawn light.

He could see the bar set back in the building and more disturbingly he could see the mirror over the bar, the mirror that he was sure he had been looking through just hours before. Dean felt like there was an anvil sitting on his chest…Sam had been here and they had missed him by mere hours.

He let his head slide through his hands so that his forehead rested against the cool glass of the window. Fatigue hit him like a blow to the stomach and he suddenly realised that his body was aching. He had been riding on adrenaline for so long now, the he had forgotten the last time he had been able to sleep and all he wanted to do now was slide down the wall, curl up on the veranda and escape this horrible crushing feeling; the knowledge that no matter what he did or what he sacrificed he could not keep his brother safe.

Dean felt the warmth of the Doc's touch on his shoulders, felt the gentle press of her body against his back as she laid her cheek against his shoulder like she was trying to leech away his pain through osmosis or something.

"You can't save someone from themselves Dean." She said in a whisper, reminding him that she knew everything that he was feeling, every wound that bled in his soul and every weakness that plagued him. While sometimes, her insight was a comfort, right at this second it taunted him like he was a wounded animal, and like a wounded animal Dean lashed back.

He shrugged out of her hold, putting distance between them. "That is my job Doc…that is my only job in this world" he snapped glaring at her with eyes gritty and stinging from fatigue "Don't you dare say that I can't save him."

"Dean I only meant….." started Hannah, moving towards him trying to bridge the distance between them.

Defensively Dean held up his hands and stepped away from her. "I know what you meant." he snapped coldly, his chest aching like there was a band of iron around it.

Hannah's eyes turned sad but she said nothing more. Her look of pity fuelled Dean's anger even more. It was like she already accepted that Sam was lost to them and Dean couldn't do that……wouldn't do that. He had sacrificed his immortal soul for Sam, he had to believe it was enough; that he was enough to save his brother.

Even as he thought this a practised mask of indifference covered the Doc's face and she turned away from him, looking back out at the sign and the empty street beyond.

"Go wait in the car Doc, I'm going to have a quick look inside." Dean said pulling a small leather pouch from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"If it is all the same to you, I think I should go in as well and see if I can pick anything up." Hannah replied her tone annoyingly vacant of any kind of sentiment.

"Suite yourself" Dean muttered as he started on the lock on the double doors.

After about half a minute of fiddling, Dean pushed on the door and it swung open, giving them access to the wide tap room of the bar. The building was not a big place, but there were a number of tables spread around the main floor, all with chairs neatly piled on top of them.

Dean walked straight to the bar his eyes on the mirror above it; looking at the thing that had provided him with the last images he had of his brother. When he reached the bar he centred himself on it, turned around and looked back out the double doors to the sign by the road.

Déjà vu like a freight train assaulted his senses and if seeing the sign in the rear-view had sparked a memory for him, standing now at the bar made him relive the whole damn thing in his head.

He looked over to where Sam had stood, with the two unknown girls he was travelling with and was surprised to see that the Doc had gravitated directly to that area. She had pressed her hands flat against the wall, her eyes closed and a look of complete confusion crossed her face.

"What is it Doc?" asked Dean moving towards her.

"It's nothing." Hannah replied distractedly.

"What do you mean…nothing? It's got to be something, I can tell by the look on your face."

"No I don't mean nothing as in nothing" she said cryptically holding her hand out for his "I mean nothing as a total absence of anything….like it has been stripped completely bare."

Dean waited for a while with the Doc's fingers wrapped around his wrist, but all he felt was the warmth of the Doc's hand bleeding into his wrist.

"I don't feel anything Doc?" Dean finally said.

"Exactly" she said "But we should be able to feel something…echoes of what has gone on here in the past, vibrations of energy, maybe nothing discernable but it should still give me something. This is completely blank like it has been sterilised or something."

Dean took a step back looking at the wall in confusion.

"What the hell went on here?" Hannah said, more as a rhetorical question than anything else.

The sharp crack of a shot gun being cocked broke the silence and while it made Hannah jump in fright, it had Dean going for the gun at his belt. When they spun they saw a middle aged woman, her blue black hair in two long braids that framed her tanned face. She looked fiercely at them and carried her shotgun like someone very experienced in using it

"Don't move." She hissed, her gun trained squarely on Dean, who had pulled his own gun from the belt of his jeans.

Dean and the woman eyed each other for a long moment, both weighing up the other. This woman was probably in her early fifties and she clearly had Indian blood in her veins. Her cheek bones were wide and high and her keen brown eyes were almond shaped.

Fine strands of silver were starting to immerge in her hair and laugh lines had wrinkled the skin at her mouth and by her eyes….but she was certainly not laughing now. In fact she looked down right pissed.

"Relax" said Dean holding up one hand in submission, but still pointing his gun at the woman "I'm Agent Young and this is Agent Scott of the FBI."

"FBI?" said the woman, her eyes narrowing like a raptors "Bullshit"

"Well if you point that cannon somewhere else, I'll show you my ID."

As Dean finished that sentence, her heard footsteps hurry out from the bar and a boy of maybe 12 or 13 years old ran out. Instinct made him train his gun on the movement, but as soon as he did the woman moved protectively in front of the path of the child and pulled her shotgun tighter into her chest almost in an unspoken warning.

"I called the sheriff mom, he's on his way." the boy reported, looking at Dean and Hannah from behind the safety of his mother's body.

"Shit" muttered Dean, throwing a look towards Hannah. Her face was carefully blank, but he could read in her eyes that she pretty much shared his sentiment.

"If you're the FBI that shouldn't be a problem now…should it?" said the woman, her eyes narrowing even further as she looked at Dean.

"Look lady, we're investigating a kidnapping here and time is a factor, I don't want to be wasting my time and getting into a jurisdictional pissing contest with the locals. We have a lead and we need to work it as fast as possible."

The woman cocked her head to the side as if considering what Dean had to say. "What has my bar got to do with a kidnapping and don't you need some sort of warrant to be in here?"

Dean lowered his gun slightly as he watched this woman and the boy who still stood behind her, watching with wary eyes.

"Look we know that the guy that we're after was in here last night just after 11pm with a teenager and a little girl, and if you really want to be like that, I can get a dozen agents with a warrant down here to shut you down for a week while we go over this place with a fine tooth comb"

"There were no kids in here last night" the woman said defensively "I was behind that bar all night and there were definitely no kids in here."

"What about a man" asked the Doc taking a very subtle step towards the woman "…caucasian, with dark hair and brown eyes?"

"Freakishly tall" interjected Dean in an effort to jog the woman's memory.

"Look, I know most of the people who come in here. We have a pretty regular clientele and I can absolutely guarantee that there was no freakishly tall Caucasian man in here with dark hair and brown eyes."

Hannah was watching the woman and took another step towards her, her movements making the woman train her shot gun on the Doc rather than on Dean.

"She's telling the truth Dean, or at least she thinks she is." Hannah said her tone sounding coldly academic. "She has no recollection of Sam or the girls at all."

"Of course I am telling the truth. Why would I lie about something like that?" the woman said incredulously.

As they spoke, Dean could faintly here the sound of a siren approaching them.

"Where out of time Doc" said Dean his eyes shifting between the door and the woman holding the gun.

"Oh no…" said the Doc and something in her tone drew Dean's attention. Her eyes were glowing silver and her attention was focused out the window and to the road. "Dean the Sheriff has a passenger, if you take my meaning."

Dean held the Doc's eyes for a moment as the gravity of the situation began to settle on him. In calling the sheriff, this woman had made the poor man the perfect host for one of the demons chasing the pair.

Dean turned his eyes back to the woman, his gaze falling briefly on the boy who still stood behind her and he curbed the instinct to curse at the top of his lungs. To try and appeal to this woman, Dean slid the gun back into the waist of his jeans.

"Look lady in a few minutes all hell is about to break loose in here…and I mean literally. So if you care anything about your life and that of your son, I suggest that you take that gun and get as far away from here as fast as you can."

"What?" The woman asked in confusion "What are you talking about and what is wrong with your partner's eyes?"

Dean looked towards the Doc, whose eyes now blazed a molten mercury colour, her gaze fixed squarely on the road where the sheriff's cruiser was just pulling up.

"Doc…a little of the Jedi mind stuff wouldn't go a stray here now."

Hannah turned to Dean her eyes looking so incredibly sad "I don't know that I can"

Dean held her look, not saying a word but just willing her to try. These people were innocent and he sure as hell didn't want them to get in between him and the Doc and what was coming at them. Equally he didn't want to get shot by accident as he was trying to save these peoples lives.

Hannah strode purposefully towards the woman ignoring the fact that there was a shot gun pointed at her.

"You will take your son and go to the kitchen, you will make a ring of salt and no matter what you hear in this room, you will not return, do you understand?"

By the time she had finished speaking the Doc was nearly flush with the barrel of the woman's shot gun.

"No" said the woman in confusion "I don't understand! What are you on drugs or something and you better back the hell off before I put a round through you."

"Doc…." said Dean, the urgency making his voice sound harsh.

"Listen to me" said Hannah, her voice unyielding, strong and authoritative "A demon is on its way here and it will destroy you and your son as soon as look at you. If you want to survive, you **WILL** do as I say."

Hannah could see a moment of hesitation cross the woman's face. Doc was pushing everything she had into trying to get the woman out of the tap room of the bar. She could sense the demon getting closer but in spite of her efforts, this woman was too stubborn and far too proud to be swayed by anything that her talents could do.

Hannah was sure though, that this woman had enough of a psychic sensitivity to feel the Doc's energy and that seemed to work at unnerving her.

"Mom" her son pleaded, pulling desperately on the woman's elbow. Clearly the boy was not as mentally strong as his mother and he was feeling the full effects of the Doc's influence.

"It's too late" Hannah heard Dean say, but she wouldn't break eye contact with the woman and she tried to will the obstinate bar owner into clearing out.

With her focus firmly fixed on the Doc, the woman never saw Dean's fist. There was a nano second of surprise on the older woman's face as Dean's sharp jab connected with her jaw, and then almost like a cartoon character her eyes became unfocused and rolled back in her head as her body lost all tension and starting to fall to the floor.

In a smooth motion Dean caught the shot gun and handed it rapidly off to the Doc and using the woman's own fall, Dean bent down low and grunted slightly as he collect the woman's dead wait over his shoulder.

"Mom!!!" said the boy in a panicked squeak.

"Don't worry kid" Dean tried to explain as he weaved his way through the tables, the unconscious woman dangling down his back "I did this for her own good. She may not thank me for it later, but at least she'll live."

Dean was almost to the bar, when he happened to look up and see a figure reflected in the mirror over on the wall above it. He turned slowly, the woman still in a dead hang over his shoulder. Her son had frozen, apparently picking up on the fact that something horrible was about to happen and he and his mother were in the dead centre of it.

"Well, well, well," said the Sheriff, a portly man with a massive beer belly in an ill fitting uniform and aviator sun glasses "Don't you two smell good enough to eat."

The man reached up and pulled down his sun glasses and Dean heard the boy beside him gasp, as inky black eyes stared back at them.

Dean let the boy's mother slip from his shoulders, he wasn't prepared to take his eyes off this new demon, but he equally couldn't be burdened with the woman's dead weight any more.

"Kid" Dean said calmly his eyes never leaving the demon "If you want to live, drag you mother behind this bar, find any salt that you can and draw a line of it on the floor at either end of the bar."

The boy stood frozen to the spot, Dean had no doubt that he had heard all of the instructions, but the kid's fear was almost tangible and he was rooted to the spot.

"Kid!" Dean said again this time louder with more authority.

He felt more than saw the kid move, and once the woman's body was out of his peripheral vision he moved his focus to the demon at the door, wondering how in the hell he and the Doc were going to get out of this one.

The woman and the boy's best chance for survival was if Dean and the Doc got the hell out of there fast, but the Demon stood between them and there only source of escape and Dean was under no illusion about the fact that they would have to go through this entity.

Beside him the Doc had the shotgun pointed dead centre on the man in the door. He knew that shooting this bastard would do nothing greater than piss it off, but he took slight comfort from the fact that they were both armed.

"What is it that you want?" Hannah asked, surprising both Dean and the demon with her question.

The Demon almost smiled at her taking two casual steps into the bar, picking up a chair where it had been neatly stacked on a table for the night, and planting it in front of the door and taking a seat.

"Do you know" it said pulling a toothpick from the sheriff's top pocket and starting to probe at the gaps between the man's teeth "I'm not really sure…but you two just feel so damn good I don't know whether I want to keep you, kill you or wear your meat suites around the block a couple of times."

"How about D, you turn your ass around, let that nice man be and get the hell out of our way." said Dean, his congenial smile, incongruous with their current predicament.

"Now" said the Sheriff in a droll tone "You know that just ain't 'gonna' happen don't you?"

"Yeah I know" replied Dean with mock acceptance "But it never hurts to ask…you don't get if you don't ask."

"That's very true there son…very true indeed. That's why I'm going to ask you once, real nice like, to put your guns down, come with me, don't give me any trouble and I might just let the boy and his mother live for another day."

"Wow" said Dean reaching for the gun in his jeans "As tempting as that sounds, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to decline."

The sheriff's face seemed to show disappointment for a second but then it brightened like he was a player in a bad melodrama. "Oh that's too bad. What about you Missy, are you going to make the right choice and save these peoples lives?"

Hannah held the Sheriff's eye for a moment as if she was contemplating his offer, the barrel of the shot gun even dipped a little as she straighten almost in a pose of acceptance. A second later Dean he felt a wicked rush of energy pass by him as the Doc through a telekinetic push that sent the chair the sheriff was sitting on careening backwards, dumping the demon down the small flight of stairs that lead up to the veranda.

It was a move that Dean had been unprepared for, but it had been a stroke of genius, buying them precious seconds and putting the dark entity on the defensive. Dean had a split second to see the demon get to its feet with preternatural speed and he realised the counter attack was coming.

"Behind the bar" Dean called before he flung himself over the tall wooden structure. As he fell the whole bar was filled with a blinding white light. He had seen such a display before, in fact he had seen it in this very bar, he was just grateful that he had found cover before it could hit him and prayed that the Doc had been as lucky.

He fell awkwardly, half falling on the boy who was cowering over his mother's prostrate body. The kid had followed his instructions, but the salt lines were thin and all the demon would have to do to break them was breath on them funny and there would be no protection for the four of them at all.

"Kid" Dean said in a harsh whisper "Where's the salt?"

With eyes the size of saucers in his face, the kid pointed up to a shelf behind the bar, where a dozen or so pepper and salt shakers and been neatly stored in a small wooden tray. Grabbing two of the salt shakers, Dean passed them to the Doc, relieved to see that she was alive and copes mentis enough to figure out what he was doing.

Without hesitating, the Doc unscrewed the shaker part off the salt, and poured a stronger protection line beside her on the floor. Then taking the second shaker, she again unscrewed the top and started to pour a line of salt along the bar and across the counter top.

Dean was mirroring her actions on the other side, trying to create a little fortification for them, while he figured out what he could possibly do.

"That's all you got" the demon taunted as he sauntered in the bar with the bravado of a bad guy from a spaghetti western "You're going to fight me with love taps and condiments?"

"Actually I think salt is more of a spice than a condiment." the Doc commented conversationally and her smart ass reply had Dean smiling with pride.

The demon smiled also, but his expression lacked any humour. Instead he simply raised his hands and a squall of wind seemed to rise up from the very floor of the bar and whip around the small building making the bottles rattle on the shelves and the pictures vibrate on the wall.

Dean had to shield his eyes as the tiny grains of sand where picked up and tossed violently on the wind, destroying any hope that the salt might have afforded them even the smallest amount of protection.

"Well there goes that plan." Dean said fatalistically as he search his mind for a new solution to their current predicament. He was vaguely aware of the Doc in a made flurry of activity next to him.

She had ducked down low behind the bar, when the wind had picked up, well out of site from the demon. Pulling a marker pen from a cunning little draw under the cash register, she started to draw symbols of protection on the unconscious woman's forehead.

The woman's son watched on, his face a mixture of terror and total confusion. When the Doc had finished with the woman, she turned to the boy and none to gently pushed his head against the counter, holding him steady as she drew on his forehead in the dark marker pen.

Dean was starting to recognise the symbols. He knew they where for protection but he had no idea what culture they were from or what they did exactly, he just figured that the Doc was trying to give these people as much protection as she possibly could. It wouldn't protect them from physical harm, but it would make it damn hard for the demon to possess them.

When she was done, the Doc stood up and standing at Dean's shoulder she started to recite the rites of exorcism. The demon paused as she started, cocking his head slightly and giving her a look of begrudging respect.

"Well played my dear." it said even as the Doc spoke, but before she had gotten to the verses of power, it flicked its wrist, using its own telekinesis to pull all of the bottles that sat in shelves behind the bar, down on top of them.

Instantly Hannah bought her hands up to protect her head from the flying bottles, her voice faltering as she was pelted by full bottles of spirits. Dean stepped behind her trying to protect her body with his own, but the volume of bottle was just too great and she couldn't maintain the rite.

They were being beaten from all sides with relentless fury and if the full bottle didn't hit them with the force of a prize fighter's punch, the bottles would shatter, showering them with wicked shards of glass.

Dean used his size, to force the Doc down behind the cover of the bar, then both he and the Doc, tried covering the boy who was keening like a wounded animal and his poor defenceless mother affording them any kind of protection for the maelstrom of bottles and broken glass that they could.

Before Dean could even take a moment to orient himself, he felt hands on his jacket, pulling him with impossible strength and tossing him like he weighed less than nothing. He crashed into a table piled hight with wooden chairs and he fell to the floor with a mighty splintering crash.

As the sheriff loomed over the three still cowering on the floor, the Doc summoned all of her will power and sent the last of her energy out in a mighty telekinetic push, trying to knock the legs out from under the demon. She had been successful with this ploy the first time around, but this demon was a quick study and managed to brace himself enough so that all of her push did was knock him back a few feet.

After taking a moment to right himself, the demon smiled viciously at her, seeming to enjoy the fact that from her current vantage point he towered over her, lording his power over her. The Doc had always understood that vanity and pride were a demons greatest weakness, but it had never rung more true for her than it did right at that moment.

Scrabbling on the floor Hannah put her body between the demon and the two innocents who were covered in glass and spirits on the floor. If the demon wanted them, he would sure as hell have to go through her to do it. Blood from a hundred tiny cuts on her face and on her scalp bled into her eyes, but she stared at the demon unflinching, determined that if she was going to go….she was going down hard.

As the demon took slow menacing steps towards her, enjoying the way she cowered before him, he didn't see Dean as the elder Winchester threw himself whole body at the sheriff. Dean collected the heavy man in the side with a tackle that would have made a line backer proud.

Sheer momentum carried the two men into the wall behind the bar and they fell to the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs. Dean had fallen on top of the sheriff, giving him a slight advantage, but the blow had clearly knocked him around, so he blindly grabbed onto the sheriff, trying desperately to pin the man's arms and legs under the weight of his own body.

"Now" Dean cried desperately "Do it now Doc"

Again Hannah began the rite of exorcism, the ancient Sumerian swords slipping off her tongue as fast as she could get them out. The demons struggled on Dean's grasp a stream of profanity flowing out of its mouth.

Hannah continued unwavering, until she became suddenly aware of a chanting that had slipped almost seamlessly in to the cadence of her words.

"Grandma?" she heard the boy whisper behind her and looking up she saw a wizened old woman standing there, chanting in the way of her ancestors.

The woman wore a heavy hand woven shawl across her stooped shoulders and one gnarled hand gripped tight to a walking stick…which was probably the only thing keeping the old woman on her feet.

Hannah continued to recite the rites, but her focus was no longer on the demon, it was now firmly centred on the woman who stood before her. The ancient woman, was clearly a woman of power...or at least she had been in her day. Now all Hannah could feel was an echo of power within the woman's frail frame. In her free hand the woman held up what Hannah suspected was a dream catcher; an intricately woven circle of threads that resembled a spider web.

The old woman's thrumming chant seemed to add power to Hannah's words as she spoke them, so Hannah stood moving closer to the old woman in the hopes that proximity would aid her…in all honesty, she could use all the help she could get, even if it was from a woman who looked positively ancient.

As Hannah started in on the verse of power, the words that commanded the demon from the host's body, the sheriff began to thrash, driving Dean painfully into the hard ground, but like a stubborn cowboy at a rodeo, Dean clung to the man even as his back bowed unnaturally and his head thrashed from side to side.

The Doc and the old woman's voice started to rise in a crescendo, but instead of allowing itself to be banished, the demon let go of its human host, turning into black inky smoke and rushing in a steady stream to the ceiling. As if anticipating the move, the old woman held out her 'dream catcher' and continued to chant, her voice holding more strength than someone of her age should probably have.

Having no notion of what would happen, Hannah continued with the rites of exorcism, unsure if stopping now would somehow affect the balance of the new battle that seemed to be underway. The tendril of black smoke, tried to snake away from the 'dream catcher', but something about the woven circle was pulling on its intangible body, dragging it back towards the centre of the 'dream catcher' like water to a drain.

Hannah watched in amazement as the smoke started to become trapped in the web like threads of the dream catcher. The old Indian, still chanted and Hannah still recited the verses of power from the rite of exorcism and together they seemed to drag the demon and trap it within the threads of the 'dream catcher'.

As the last wisps of smoke were pulled towards it, the woven threads seemed to ignite with a glowing sort of ember and the 'dream catcher' went up in one rapid puff of flame, falling like burning ash from the old woman's hand.

Hannah could sense the exact moment that the old woman would fall. She understood the sentiment having barely enough energy to stay on her own two feet, but she caught the ancient woman in her hands and lowered her gently to the floor.

The woman was speaking at her in her native tongue, a harsh whisper, and while Hannah didn't understand the content, she sure as hell understood the intent. As the old woman's grandson move to her side, he looked at Hannah with a combination of fear and loathing.

"Get out" he said, cradling his Grandmother's frail torso close to his chest "She want's you to leave now."

She felt Dean pull once on her arm and looking up at his bloodied and battered face, she realised that the only way to make these people truly safe, was to get out of there as soon as they could.

Dean helped her to her feet and they hurried as fast as their tortured bodies would allow them towards the door. As they stepped out onto the veranda the loud growl of a distant motorbike could be heard.

"Dean" said Hannah putting a hand on his arm and turning alarmed eyes in his direction "There are more."

Dean took one deep breath, his eye looking towards the heaven's as if beseeching them for a little assistance. When none was immediately forthcomming, he straightened his shoulder, held his bloodied face up in defiance and put an arm around the Doc to help her walk.

"Come on Doc" he said "Get in the car…let's move"

Hannah didn't need to be told twice. This demon hand nearly killed them and if she wasn't mistaken, there were at least several others on the way. Their only hope now was to run…run as fast and as far as they could.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Those of Good Purpose - Chapter 9**

**Day 284**

**Indian Route 4 - Arizona 2:23pm**

Hannah tried to get comfortable in her seat, the rough dirt road jostling her back and forth relentlessly. Shortly after making their quick exit from the bar, conscious of their motorcycle pursuers, Dean had taken Charlotte off the main road and had steered her onto the rough dirt road that led them away from the main roads or the inhabited areas.

It had been a calculated risk on Dean's part. He knew that it would be hard going for them, but he also knew that it would be a hell of a lot harder for the laid back low riding motorcycles that were hot on their heels. If the unpredictable dirt and gravel road surface didn't unseat their riders, then the machines themselves would end up breaking down or running out of gas well before Charlotte ever would.

It had proven to be a wise gambit; their demonic pursuers had dropped off steadily through a natural attrition of accidents, mechanical failure and empty gas tanks, leaving Hannah and Dean clear at least for a short while.

Once there pursuers had all fallen victim to the harshness of the landscape, it had given them a small respite from the relentless pace over the rough spaghetti network of roads that crisscrossed the desert. Dean had taken the window of opportunity to fuel Charlotte up at a reservation fuel pump at a small farm in literally the middle of no where.

The old Indian, who manned the gas pump, hadn't seemed to bat an eyelid at the two white people, who were beat to hell, still bleeding and stunk like a distillery. In fact Hannah had almost laughed when she had picked up an errant thought from the old man. He had just written them off as crazy white people doing crazy white people stuff.

As they fuelled up, Dean had guarded them looking out across the desert for either demonic smoke of dust trails that would herald someone coming down the road. Hannah had taken a few minutes, to clean the blood off his face with an antiseptic wipe she had fished out from the first aid kit in the glove compartment and hurriedly dressed the worst of the cuts and lacerations that covered his face and scalp.

She had waited until they were back on the road to attend to her own injuries and once she was done, Dean had advised her to get some sleep as they were probably going to have to take shifts with driving. She had been trying to take his advice for the past few hours, but she couldn't quite relax enough to get to sleep.

The cuts on her face and arms were still stinging which in itself couldn't really be described as painful, but it certainly was incessant. Hannah breathed in a deep sigh, as she readjusted in the seat again. She really had no right to complain.

Through her connection with Dean, she could feel that he was in significant pain, the fight with the sheriff had left him with some internal bleeding and a few fractured ribs and he was finding every single breath painful, but he had not said a word about it nor murmured one complaint, which made Hannah wonder just how much pain had Dean lived with throughout his life to give him such a high tolerance for it.

As she closed her eyes she tried willing her body to sleep again, mindful that at some point soon, Dean would need to get some rest himself. Hannah pulled her consciousness away from the pains and discomfort of her body and burrowed deeper into her psyche, hoping that distancing herself from her 'pain' might help her get some sleep.

Out of habit, her mind went to the small dark place where she kept the cell of the dark entity that was trapped deep within her. Her consciousness flowed like liquid over the wards and seals that held the thing confined, strengthening them and mending any that were in any way fading or damaged. It was a mental ritual she almost did unconsciously nowadays just because she had done it so much.

As she worked over the cell, the entity within didn't so much as even stir. It had been unusually quiet ever since the mirror incident and again Hannah's interest was peeked as to why. She had the feeling that it was sitting back cautiously seeing how things would turn out. That was very uncharacteristic, which made Hannah as nervous as if it were doing its normal plotting, scheming and taunting.

As she visualised herself in her mind, standing next to the cell, she imagined herself putting her hand on the wall of the cell, feeling the protective arcane energy that pulsed through it, but underneath she felt fear. Hannah had first hand knowledge of just how powerful and fearsome the entity within her could be and to know that it was now afraid, sparked her curiosity insatiably.

For the first time since she had trapped this darkness deep within her, Hannah considered initiating contact with it. She was half expecting this to be a trick, but she felt its fear and believed at least that was very genuine and knowing that it feared gave her some leverage she had never had before.

'_What is it that has you cowering in there?"_ Hannah thought, still imagining her palm flat against the metal cell. She felt the entity shift within slightly, but it did not answer her immediately. In fact long minutes slipped by and she half expected the thing to ignore her completely.

'_I do not cower'_ it finally said like a petulant child, its tone almost in direct antithesis to its sentiment '_I am merely biding my time'._

'_Come now' _Hannah replied injecting her mental voice with as much false bravado as she dared, the entity may be slightly withdrawn, but there was no use in provoking it. '_I just gave you one of the best opportunities you have ever had to be free and you did not take it. I was just curious to know why?'_

The creature remained silent, and Hannah got the distinct impression that she had somehow hit on a nerve with it. The prospect of that felt utterly ridiculous, but she couldn't help but pick up on the unguarded feelings that were coming from the entity. It had never stayed silent before, it had never allowed her to bait it in anyway, always twisting her words, manipulating them for its own ends…until now.

'_I am beginning to think that you have gotten comfortable here within me, like a prisoners so institutionalised they can not function in the outside world any longer.' _Hannah mused. It was really a rhetorical thought, but she felt the darkness shift within its cell as if her words had somehow annoyed it.

'_Think what you will, if it brings you comfort´_ the entity replied more evenly, in a tone that Hannah recognised. '_But we both know that I spent centuries bound to that damn book and that did nothing to diminish the way I function now did it. Your family learnt that lesson well did they not?'_

Hannah should have anticipated the anger that those simple words would conjure up within her, but the knotted heat in her belly still took her by surprise. It took her a moment to compose herself and she realised angrily, that the entities unusual behaviour had tricked her into a false sense of security.

'_When we catch up with Sam'_ Hannah muttered more infuriated with herself than with the entity that she was spitting at _'The first thing I am going to get him to do is rip you from my head and devour you just like he did with that other demon.'_

'_I do not fear that Winchester whelp'_ the entity spat back and Hannah knew at once that it spoke the truth.

'_The girl'_ Hannah said vocalising her thoughts, and realised without a doubt in her mind that she was right '_You are afraid of the demon that is within the little girl.' _

'_I fear nothing'_ the entity raged, but the louder it protested the more Hannah believed she was right.

Her entity recognised this demon, and that knowledge was more important to Hannah right now than anything else on this planet. If they knew who they were up against, then they may have a better chance of defeating it.

But if the darkness within her knew just how badly she wanted….no needed this information, it would never give it up. She would have to be very cunning in the way in which she approached this.

'_If that were true then why didn't you seize the opportunity to destroy me just as you have threatened to do so often in the past?_' Hannah asked, injecting her mental voice with just enough incredulity to prick the entities pride _'I am smart enough to know that you could have at any time when I was being attacked by those three?'_

The entity was silent, making no witty remarks, nor loosing its temper as it was want to do more often than not. Its silence told Hannah more than any words that she was provoking its ire. Even though she still didn't understand why, she had recollections of the entity helping her during the events of the previous night.

It had fed her power, it had instructed Dean how to break the connection of the spell and while she was only guessing, she had the distinct feeling that it was the entity who had told Dean to put her drained body against the power saturated earth to heal.

'_You needed me to live' _she said with conviction, even though she was only guessing at the entities motives '_You needed me to live so that I could hide you from that demon.'_

'_I need nothing from you'_ the darkness all but spat at her _'I will crush you'_

'_Really?' _said Hannah getting a perverse sense of satisfaction at finally being the antagonist in one of their exchanges _'Then why didn't you? If you are so intent of 'crushing' me then why did you help me?'_

'_It was the lesser of two evils' _the entity said in a snarling whisper.

'_If you chose me as the lesser of two evils then you must truly be afraid of the demon within that girl'_ Hannah made it a statement not a question and could almost feel the entity growling at her even as she spoke.

'_I will exact my revenge when I choose' _the entity hissed, its voice low and cold as it spoke in her mind _'Vanquishing you when you are weak is no victory. I shall wait to when you least expect it and rob you of everything you hold dear, so you will know true despair.'_

Hannah laughed cruelly in her mind _'That sounds like a coward trying to excuse their cowardice behind bold words to me.'_

'_I am no coward'_ the entity raged _'I fear not you, nor the Winchester boy nor even Asbeel and I will destroy all of you before long!'_

'_Asbeel!'_ Hannah thought with a mental gasp…if such a thing were even possible.

Too late the entity recognised what Hannah's intention had been and furious with itself it withdrew its energy deep within the cell to regroup, to plan, to wait for its opportunity. Hannah spared it only a passing thought as she turned this new piece of information over in her mind.

Of course the thing manipulating Sam must have been Asbeel. As soon as the dark entity had spoken the name, Hannah had known that the profile of manipulation had fit. They had always assumed that they had exorcised Asbeel back in Rhode Island, but the demon had fooled them all and had been pulling Sam's strings all this time.

Hannah was furious with herself for not making the connection earlier, for not challenging their assumption that Asbeel had been banished back to hell. As she opened her eyes she felt shame welling up in her. She should have been able to see this long ago. If she had, she would have saved both Dean and Sam this well of grief and trouble that was pulling them apart. As it was, she wasn't sure if the current situation between the brothers could be redeemed in any way.

"Asbeel" she said aloud, opening her eyes and noticing that the sun was again sinking in the sky behind them. She must have been out for a while, it had only been early afternoon when she had started her conversation with her dark prisoner, but time had a way of distorting whenever she had dealings with it and more time than she had anticipated had gone by.

She looked at Dean and realised that they were travelling east now and were probably well into the desert roads of New Mexico.

"What did you say?" asked Dean watching her carefully.

"I just worked something out." Hannah said, loathed to share with Dean exactly where she had picked up her information. "The demon in that little girl is Asbeel."

"What?" Dean said looking slightly like Hannah had punched him in the guts hard.

"The demon with Sam is Asbeel."

"Wait a minute" Dean said looking at her in confusion "Didn't we already banish that bastard at the cottage?"

"We thought it was the demon inside of Pat, but there was no way of knowing for sure."

"So what makes you think that it is Asbeel now?"

"Think about it for a second." Hannah said working through her analysis rapidly in her mind. "You know Sam better than anyone, he wasn't with those girls under duress, he had chosen to be there wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah I guess" said Dean, seeming slightly distracted as he watched something in the rear view "But he is with them because he believes that they can help me."

"Which they have manipulated him into believing, and manipulation is what Asbeel is known for."

"Yeah" remarked Dean "But we are talking about demons here Doc. Asbeel doesn't exactly have exclusive rites on the whole manipulation thing."

"True" Hannah conceded "but consider it for a moment Dean; all of the targets that Sam has put you on to recently were all associated in some way to Beleth right? Thammuz, Rimmon all of whom are the lieutenants to Beleth." She paused letting the information sink in "If there was a power struggle left from Azazel's destruction what better weapon could there possible be to tip the balance of power, than a psychic hunter, and what better way to get him, than use his love for his brother." Hannah replied, trying to spell out the logic for him.

"Even if what you are saying is true Doc." Dean conceded his eyes shifting to the rear view again "There is no way of knowing that the other player in the mix is Asbeel."

"True enough" Hannah finally conceded knowing that there was no way of convincing Dean without revealing her shameful source "But Sam is a pretty smart guy, with a hell of a lot of power and a lifetime of experience. Only a master manipulator could use him, he'd see through anything less, at this point I am kind or praying that it is Asbeel, because we don't need another demon of that calibre in the mix."

"Damn it" said Dean suddenly flooring the gas launching Charlotte over the rough dirt road "Just hold that thought for a moment Doc, we got company."

"Where?" Hannah said turning in her seat to try and see out the back window, but all she could see was a great billowing cloud of dust.

"A pick-up, coming up hard behind us." Dean replied, his eyes shifting between the road in front of them and the rear view mirror. "I saw them a couple of miles back on a parallel road and I thought we might get lucky and they'd drive right by….although with our recent luck I don't know who was I trying to kid."

Hannah closed her eyes and let her extra senses flare out wide. Sure enough tugging at her senses was the oily feel of the demons about a mile or so behind them and getting closer.

"There are two of them." She said her eyes still firmly closed.

"I figured as much" Dean said relatively nonchalantly considering what was chasing them. "We picked up two smokers some where near the boarder while you were asleep, and when they figured out that Charlotte was protected, I thought they had given up. Looks like they went and found themselves two hosts for attempt number two."

Hannah listened to Dean's words with horror. She couldn't believe that demons had gotten so close to them and she hadn't felt them. Her focus had been so intent on her exchange with the darkness within her, that she had 'slept' right through an attack.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Hannah asked the mortification in her voice directed at herself rather than Dean.

"I needed you rested" said Dean, still watching in the rear view. "I'm going to have to tag out soon and if these two are any indication, the bastards after us are tenacious as they come, so we are going to have to keep going until we run out of road or out of gas, whichever comes first."

Hannah glanced nervously at the fuel gage and noticed that they only had about half a tank left.

"Dean what are we going to do?" she asked in an even voice. To stop herself from panicking, she had switched her mind to her safe analytical way of thinking and as was its way…her mind saw a problem and was keen to find a solution.

"Don't worry" said Dean "We'll think of something."

**

* * *

**

Day 275

**Neenah – Alabama: 9:03pm**

Dean stood by the window, his hand wrapped firmly around the barrel of his shot gun. He had been standing vigil since they had arrived at the 'pay by the hour' motel in nowhere Alabama. For ten days he and the Doc had been pursued relentlessly. For ten days they had evaded a steady stream of demons, moving constantly, never stopping for more than a few minutes at a time.

They had driven and slept in shifts, never getting more than a few hours at a time. They had subsided on truck stop and gas station food, anything that they could grab and run within the harried stressful times they had been forced to stop for fuel.

It had been a gruelling undignified marathon where they had gone unbathed for days, forced to take minute long toilet breaks by the side of the road. That was perhaps a small price to pay for their lives but it had hurt Dean to see someone as proud as the Doc, reduced to peeing by the side of the road.

She had never complained, not once…but he had seen the manner of their flight had broken her down in minute increments. She had tried as best as she was able to keep an air of dignity, to never show how being constantly on guard wore on her, but being stuck in a car with someone night and day for ten days straight, left Dean with a lot of time to see how it affected her.

They had been chased across four states, staying to the back roads and avoiding any cities wherever they could. When they had been pursued for more than a day and fought off the third set of demons to refuel, Dean had called Bobby and asked him to pick up Sam's trail if he could.

The old hunter hadn't questioned the request at all, seeming happy to help them given the circumstances. He had even offered them refuge at his home in South Dakota but at the time, Dean had never anticipated that they would have been followed for so long. In hindsight, South Dakota, probably would have been a good idea. Hell anything would have been better than the relentless pursuit that their lives had become.

By the fifth day, Dean and the Doc had toyed with the idea of driving to the warded safety of the Doc's cottage, but the presence of the grimoires at the cottage had added a level of risk to the idea that Dean was not prepared to take.

Dean had also been tempted to find a remote house or cabin somewhere and make a stand against the demons, but Hannah had done her best to talk him out of that, afraid that they would be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers that were coming after them. Even if they could find enough time to ward the entire place, all the demons would need to do is set fire to their shelter and it would have become like shooting fish in a barrel for the demonic forces.

Every stop for fuel or rest break had turned into a fight, every town or city revealed a new threat to them. With the exception of a punctured tyre, Charlotte had proven to be a faithful guardian to them, barrelling over every kind of road. But as Dean looked at her parked outside the window, much like her occupants, the old girl was looking a lot more worse for wear. She was caked in dirt and dust and no doubt the pristine paintjob she had a fortnight ago was probably scratched to hell by now.

Dean was almost tempted to get a bucket and cloth and go out to her now to wash her down, but his own rank odour and the aching atrophy of his limbs, tempted him to get his own shower first. Yesterday they had only had one demon after them, but today they had gone for the whole day unnoticed by any demons in the area and Dean was praying that the dark essence of the scrying magic had finally warn off of them.

They couldn't have gone on much longer anyway, so even if there was still a fight to be had, Dean preferred doing it in this tiny rail town in Alabama than drive one more mile in the car that had become both protector and prison.

When they had pulled in, despite her protests, Dean had insisted that the Doc take the first shower. If he could be sure that they were in the clear he probably would have just dived in with her, but he wasn't prepared to leave them unguarded and vulnerable. He had been on guard for so long now; he wasn't sure how to turn it off…he wasn't even sure if he should.

Behind him, he heard the water in the shower being turned off and he glanced over his shoulder in surprise. The Doc hadn't been in there for more than a few minutes, but apparently she was making it short so that he wouldn't be left waiting for long. At any other time Dean may have insisted that she have a long hot relaxing shower, but given that he was so desperate to wash more than a weeks worth of road grime from his body, he was grateful for her consideration.

"It's all yours" said Hannah quietly as she walked out of the steaming bathroom.

She had wrapped a small towel around herself and was using a second towel to rub the water from her thick hair. As Dean turned to look at her, he could see the subtle differences that had occurred over the past two weeks. She had lost a little more weight just from their appalling diet and as a result her cheekbones seemed just slightly sharper on her face.

There were dark circles under her eyes form lack of sleep, but he had seen the same thing reflected in his own face and this had been the first time in over a week that Dean had seen the Doc's hair down. She had chosen for practicality and comfort to tie it back off her face and he was surprised at how much he missed seeing it flowing around her. Overall, she had just developed a hardness in her look that had affected Dean more than he could rationally explain.

But the changes had gone so much more beyond the physical. A fortnight ago, the Doc would probably never have allowed Dean to see her wrapped in a towel her hair wet and her face clear of makeup. Even after their night together back in Utah, the Doc had risen early and presented Dean with her façade of perfection the next morning.

Now, after being with him constantly over the last ten days, the Doc had foregone all of her guarded pretences and let Dean really see her; 'warts and all' so to speak. As he watched her walk over to the window where he stood, he wondered if it had been a conscious choice on her part or just a matter of necessity.

Either way, there was an intimacy that had developed between them that could only have come from this shared trial and while he hated the nature of its development, Dean was hard pressed to be sorry about it. The Doc with her unwavering courage and her tenacity to endure had never seemed more beautiful to him than she did right at this moment.

"Go" she said gently, pulling the shotgun from his hand. "I'll keep an eye out for anything"

Dean wanted desperately to kiss her, but next to her fresh sent, he was very aware that he smelled somewhat like a sess pool. So he smiled at her, a warm smile that made the long stumble on her face itch.

Confident that the Doc would watch out for them, Dean hurried to the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he walked. He didn't stop to shave, he just started the water in the shower and unmindful of the temperature, stepped right in. As the water ran over him, Dean sighed in relief. Even the initial blast of cold water had felt good.

The cheap powderery motel soap had never smelt so good, as he picked up the tiny bar and started washing himself down. Dean vowed in that moment that he would never take for granted the simple pleasure of a warm shower ever again.

He stood under the spray for a while letting the water ease his aching body. He could have easily let the shower seduce him into a much longer stay, but as he washed his hair and face, the long bristle of the beard that was growing, reminded him how badly he also wanted to shave.

With a subtle sense of regret, Dean switched off the shower and stepped out into the small bathroom that was filled with a thick layer of steam. He patted his body try with a towel, then wrapped it around his hips as he fished out his razor and toothbrush.

As he lathered up his face with shaving cream, he had the oddest sense of being a little out of practice at this. A sensation that only seemed to grow as the razor bit into the long rough whiskers on his cheek. Rarely had he gone so long without taking the time to shave, but when he looked at his reflection in the mirror as he dragged the razor over his skin, he was suddenly reminded of someone…someone familiar but that he couldn't quite place.

The razor stilled for a moment as he studied his whiskered face and the dark circles under his eyes. Using his free hand to wipe the condensation from the mirror in front of him, Dean turned his face from side to side slightly; trying to pick who it was that he looked like. Without warning, realisation assaulted him …he looked like John Winchester.

Dean straightened, starring at his reflection in the mirror in amazement. Growing up, Dean prided himself on being like his father in personality, but he knew he bore a stronger resemblance in looks to his mother's family with his lighter colouring and hazel eyes. Sam had almost been the exact opposite, having John's dark hair and brown eyes but Mary's more sensative nature.

Looking at himself now, Dean could hardly get past the resemblance, and the more that he studied it the more he realised that it was less about physical features and more about an overall aesthetic.

John Winchester had always had a hard edge to his face, like he skipped every second meal to keep himself hungry and sharp. There had been a watchfulness to his eyes, as much a quality of the wrinkles and folds around them as the eyes themselves and his constant unkempt beard reminded Dean of the savage nature that his father could call on, a reminder that he was as much a predator as the things he hunted.

He saw that now in his own face, a shocking reflection of what this trial had done to him. Had John Winchester felt the same cloying feeling of being permanently on guard? Had he been weighed down with the constant fear and concern that he felt for his loved ones and the complete and total powerlessness that went with it? Was his father pursued as tenaciously by his personal demons as Dean had been by actual ones? Was it this that gave them the same look now…this common experience that varied in detail not nature?

Dean rinsed out his razor as those thoughts tumble chaotically around in his mind. Like a window cleaner, who was stripping back to dirt to create a clear vision, Dean continued to remove his beard, looking for the face he knew underneath, trying to see if this trial had truly changed him or if it was just an optical illusion.

As he bent over the sink to rinse the last of the shaving cream off his face, Dean watched himself carefully. Yes…it was the face he recognised, but just like the Doc's, it had changed in a very subtle way. The flippant 'devil may care' person that he had been was well and truly gone now. Perhaps, just like the Doc, it had been a carefully created façade that necessity had forced him to drop.

As Dean wiped his face on his towel, he felt the fatigue that he had been fighting for days begin to creep up on him. His body felt entirely too heavy, his thoughts felt too heavy, his responsibilities all felt far too heavy and he just wanted to sleep for a bit. He felt that he and the Doc deserved it after all they had been through. Felt that he needed a breather before the bell rang again and he had to face the next round that life was going to serve up.

Dean moved back into the main part of the room. The Doc had switched on a small lamp on the far side of the room; enough to help them move around safely, not enough to affect her ability to see out into the dark night. The gentle light silhouetted her against the windows and Dean could see that she stood vigilantly there, the butt of the gun resting against her thigh.

She had changed from the towel into a soft cotton singlet and a plain pair of boy cut briefs. Dean noticed that she had strategically piled a set of clothes and shoes by the end of the bed in case they needed to make a fast get away, but he took heart in the fact that she felt safe enough not to be fully clothed.

"We all clear?" he asked moving up behind her to look out the window into the darkness.

"It seems so" she replied quietly looking up at his freshly shaven face "I can't feel anything in the near vicinity, so I think we should be good…at least for the time being."

"Why don't you get some sleep Doc" he said touching the damp fall of her hair "I'll keep and eye out for a while and make sure we're safe."

"Dean" Hannah said in mild protest, stepping closer to his body so that she could fee the heat rising from his skin. "If anyone should get some sleep it's you. You did the lion's share of the driving and I am sure that you haven't slept more than two hours together for the last fortnight. You should really take this opportunity to rest."

"Looking tired am I?" Dean joked, moving his body slightly closer so that he could feel the whispered touch of her skin against his own.

"No…not really" Hannah replied, touching her fingers to his cheek. "But I can feel it in you."

She looked at him with such sincere concern that it filled him with both joy and a strange discomfort at the intensity of his response to it. The only person who had ever cared enough about him to ever feel concern was Sam. It used to bother him when Sam hovered over him or looked at him with those big doe eyes of his, but he had to confess that when Sam wasn't around…he did miss it.

"Trust me" Hannah said as she ran her finger over his face "I'll watch over us."

When Dean would have argued that it wasn't an issue of trust, the Doc put a finger up to his lips effectively silencing him before he could respond.

"You try to shield me and protect me from everything Dean." she said quietly, her eyes gentle but firm "Let me do this for you…look out for you….just this once."

Dean couldn't answer her, he wasn't sure if he could trust his voice with the knot of emotion that was lodged firmly in his throat. So he nodded, the slightest of motions, but it was enough to satisfy the Doc. She smiled at him and then gave him a slight push towards the bed.

He didn't fight or hesitate at all, shifting his weight and moving towards the bed. He pulled back the covers on the small motel bed and let the towel that was around his hips fall to the floor, not bothering to try and find a pair of boxers to sleep in.

It felt so good to stretch out, to feel the clean linen of the sheets against his skin, to rest his head against the softness of the pillow…and it felt good to have someone watching out for him.

He kept his attention on the opposite side of the motel room, but he could feel the Doc's eyes on him as she made certain that he was comfortable. Then he heard her turn back to the window and he closed his eyes, letting the fatigue that was clawing at him pull him under.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Those of Good Purpose – Chapter 10**

**Day 275**

**Neenah – Alabama: 0:13am**

Dean was strangely conscious of the fact that he wasn't sleeping very well. He wasn't sure just how long he had been asleep, but for the whole time he had hovered in that terrible place mid way between being truly asleep and being awake. He was also dreaming fiercely, strange kaleidoscope images pulled from the motel room, his memory and the experiences that he and the Doc had over the past ten days. They were being pushed together in a rapid slide show that made no logical sense, but had him always preparing for disaster.

He heard someone murmuring soothing words to him and felt fingers stroke through his hair. Even thought it was infinitely gentle, it was enough to pull him fully into consciousness. He saw the Doc, perched on the bed next to him, looking down at him with her storm grey eyes.

"I'm sorry." she whispered to him "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't really asleep." he confessed, rolling from his stomach so that he was on his side facing her "What time is it?"

"A little after midnight."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, realising that even with a few hours of 'sleep' under his belt, he still didn't feel the slightest bit rested.

"Come to bed Doc" he finally said, holding up the covers in invitation for her to join him "If they were going to come, they would have done it by now."

The Doc didn't resist, she simply pulled up her legs and slid down into the warmth, left from Dean's body. He thought for a moment her heard her sigh as she stretched out under the covers and he nearly mirrored the response when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. He felt the silk of her skin against his chest and the curve of her bottom fit intimately in against his groin.

Heat flared through Dean at their close contact and he felt compelled to bury his face into the curve of her neck to inhale the fresh scent of her hair. As she snuggled into his warmth, the small movements of her body against his set up a tantalising friction that made his skin feel electric. Dean felt heat pooling in the pit of his stomach and even lower and was aware that in spite of his fatigue his cock was swelling and pressing into the soft cleft of her bottom.

He pressed a kiss into the sensitive skin on her neck just below her earlobe and trailed kisses down her throat onto the soft skin of her shoulder. At the attention of Dean's mouth the Doc arched her back in pleasure, which caused her bottom to stroke Dean's rapidly growing erection. A low growl of pleasure rumbled in Dean's throat and he allowed his wondering hand to skim up the Doc's thigh and find the small strip of silken flesh that was exposed between her singlet and her briefs.

Before he even realised what he was doing, Dean's hand was tunnelling underneath the Doc's singlet, the pads of his fingers trailing over her ribs and finding the soft contour of her breasts. He felt her pleasure in his own chest as he began kneading the ample swell of flesh, getting an intense jolt of pleasure every time he ran his thumb over her hardening nipple.

Even though he was behind her, Hannah turned her head toward Dean, seeking out his soft lips with her own. He obliged quickly, pressing his mouth on hers, tasting her lips and tongue in a languorous kiss. The slow burn that had ignited between them was almost torturous, but Dean revelled in it. More often than not, he just didn't have the patience to explore the erotic quality of restraint when he had been with someone, but sharing all of the Doc's sensations as well as his own, he found the steady slow build of pleasure had a new and different appeal now.

The Doc broke their kiss for a moment, pulling her singlet top up and over her head, clearly trying to shed any barriers between them. She tossed it thoughtlessly to the ground and at the insistence of Dean's hand, she pulled the sensible briefs from her hips kicking them down her leg so that they were lost somewhere between the sheets.

Dean just took a moment revelling in the softness of her skin pressed against the length of him. She felt like sun warmed velvet against him and the sheer sensation of it made his cock throb. The Doc lay on the cradle of his arm letting him bury his hand deep in her hair, he used his hold on her and his body size to keep the dominant position behind her forcing her to turn her head so that he could kiss her thoroughly. His free hand skimmed over the body that was made vulnerable to his touch by the position she was in.

He trailed his fingers up her thighs, letting his fingers massage and kneed her muscles, subtly encouraging her thighs to part for him. As soon as she shifted position, Dean was able to press on the small gap she had created between her legs, letting the head of his cock slide forward over her feminine flesh. He felt the thrill of her slick warm heat not only through his erection, but deep within his mind, where the Doc's pleasure blossomed with new erotic sensation.

Dean applied just the smallest amount of pressure against the lips of her pussy, allowing his erection to gently stroke the sensitive flesh; tormenting himself as much as her with the sublime torment that came from that simple action. The Doc mewled in the back of her throat, a small sound of surrender that made Dean's pulse kick. She knew in this position that she was at his mercy and he could feel in his empathic link with her, that she wouldn't have had it any other way. She trusted him with her ecstasy as faithfully as she trusted him with her life and Dean felt a small swell of masculine pride at the knowledge.

Unhurriedly Dean applied a little more pressure with his pelvis. The tip of his shaft pushed through the slick flesh to press up against the entrance of her sheath. Instantly he felt the Doc trying to push back against him, using her hips to try and impale herself, but he stilled her body with a commanding hand against her hip.

He had such a tight leash on his instincts at the moment and he was determined that he would not be hurried and miss any of the ecstasy that was being with this woman. With a minute movement, Dean pressed the tip of his cock forward and felt himself sink just barely into her tight pussy. He stopped just letting the sensations flood through him. He felt the Doc in his mind, feeding off his pleasure and as sensation built between them, they moaned in unison a sound of both pleasure and frustration.

It wasn't enough for Hannah, and as mindless as she felt right in this moment, she doubted that she would ever get enough of Dean. He had this way of zeroing in on all of her most pleasurable sensations, complimenting them with his own pleasure and driving them both towards a rapture that bordered on pain.

Dean simply rolled his body forward, allowing his own body weight to push his erection slowly through her tight muscles. Hannah groaned in pleasure, unable to turn her head enough to meet Dean's mouth any longer; she turned her face into the pillow, her hand clenching in a fist by her face as the sensation of Dean's sexual invasion crawled lazily up her body.

He held firmly to her hip and with the utmost patience has started moving inside her with slow undulating strokes designed to driver her to madness. She could feel in her mind, how tight she felt around his engorged flesh and it made the walls of her sheath quiver in anticipation. There was like this endless sharing of pleasure and sensation that was building and building slowly, but with such strength Hannah wasn't sure if she would ultimately survive it.

"You feel so good" Dean whispered in her ear, feeling the need to vocalise exactly what he knew she would be reading in his mind. He kissed her neck and let his teeth graze over her shoulder and the fluttering beat of her pulse. Dean had set up a rhythm that was just a perpetual assault on their senses, but even as he felt the orgasm building in both of their bodies, he refused to be hurried, intent of drawing out this experience for all he was worth.

Unable to move from her position beneath him, the Doc resorted to the only thing that she had available to her to reciprocate some of the pleasure that he was giving her. As Dean continued to stroke her steadily, deep drugging strokes that made every muscle within her quiver, the Doc started sending him every erotic imagining she had ever had about him.

As she moaned softly into the pillow, she pushed into his mind the image of her taking him deep with her mouth, her lips and tongue travelling over his rock hard erection. But she didn't stop with just images, she sent him the emotions that accompanied them; amplifying for him the excitement and pleasure that each imagined act would give her. She sent images to him, of all the ways she would love for him to take her, she sent him memories of the joy and pleasure he had already given her. She flooded his mind with a tidal wave of sexual thought and sensation.

Dean had managed to keep a tight reign on his control by compartmentalising his pleasure, concentrating on the Doc and removing himself a little for his own sensation, but when his mind was assaulted with a barrage of the most erotic images he had ever seen in his life, he growled deep in his chest trying to clamp down on the impulse to push blindly into her and strive for the release that every image and sensation promised him.

The images that teased his mind were a more effective aphrodisiac than any porn he had seen in his life. It was like living ever single one of his fantasies out at the same time complete in techno colour, with full sensation and surround sound.

"Oh...g...god" he managed to choke out, before shifting his weight so that he was lying on top of the Doc fully. Instinct had his pelvis pistoning his throbbing erection into her before he could even process the information in his brain. The Doc, still face down on the bed, managed to lift her hips slightly, pushing her bottom higher and giving him a deeper angle of penetration as he pumped in and out of her.

The feel of her, the pleasure that they were sharing and building combined with the images in his mind overwhelmed Dean. Pure sensuality seemed a paltry explanation for what he was feeling, but he had no other words for it. Every one of his senses was alive, fiercely filled with everything that made this woman so attractive to him.

The velvet grip of her sheath tightening around him was his final undoing and he was only partially aware of the Doc tripping over the precipice before the swelling pressure of his own orgasm tackled him from behind.

Dean surged into the Doc's body, feeling the warm jets of his semen flood her. Every muscle in his body was tensed as his back arched almost painfully, burying him so deeply within her, that he never wanted to leave.

As his orgasm began to ebb away he found that he could no longer hold up his body weight on his arms. It was like the well of energy he had found to be with the Doc had left him with his release and he felt himself falling. He tried to fall to the side so that he didn't crush her beneath him, but he just managed to fall on her shoulder, the movement effectively pulling him from the shelter of her body.

"Holy shit!" Dean muttered, trying to adjust his body so that he curved around the Doc, who was still lying face down on the bed her limbs akimbo and her breathing ragged.

"And I was doing so well for a while there" he lamented recalling how his orgasm had ambushed him.

"Are you kidding me?" Hannah said in a voice mostly muffled by her pillow "You were awesome."

"I was pretty awesome wasn't I" Dean said in mock arrogance, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled the Doc close to him, helping her move her 'boneless' body with the last vestiges of his strength.

"Like nothing I have ever known." Hannah replied humour in her voice, but Dean could hear the honesty as well.

And he couldn't deny it either, being with the Doc was like nothing that he had ever known and he was certain he wouldn't know it with anyone else. That realisation was the last thought swirling around his mind as Dean drifted off to sleep, slipping through the light veil of slumber in to a true restful deep sleep.

**

* * *

** – Alabama: 7:48 amNeenah

Dean awoke slowly revelling in the incredible warmth that was filling his entire body. As his mind connected with his body, he realised that he and the Doc had barely shifted positions all night and he fallen asleep in a tangle of arms and legs.

The Doc was on her stomach beside him, and he had slept the whole night with his cheek pressed against the soft skin of her shoulder. His arm lay lazily across her back and in his sleep he had moved one of his legs possessively over hers, effectively pinning her to the bed. If she wanted to move, she would've had to wake him first.

He could tell by the rise and fall of her breaths that she was no longer asleep, but she lay still, probably trying not to disturb him.

"Doc" he mumbled unwilling to lift his head away from her warm skin "It is far too early in the morning to be thinking as hard as you are."

"I'm sorry" she replied and Dean could hear her words as a strange echo through her chest "Did I wake you?"

"No" he replied indignantly "Nature is calling I'm afraid."

"I hate it when that happens" said the Doc, and Dean could almost hear her smile through her words.

"I don't want to move though." Dean protested, consciously making all of his limbs as limp and relaxed as possible. "Don't suppose you want to go for me do you?"

"Sure" Hannah replied easily, but made absolutely no move in spite of her words.

"Great…thanks…I appreciate it." Dean teased, trying to build the will to shift his body and head for the bathroom.

"Seriously Doc, what deep and intellectual thought is going on in that brain of yours to wake you up so early?"

"Oh I was just mulling over some stuff" she said, trying to downplay his question "Nothing important."

Dean snorted at her words. "Bullshit" he declare tightening his hold over her body in subtle reprimand "I can feel that brain of yours whirring away."

"To be honest I'm not sure I should even bring it up, my last suggestion was such a disaster, I batting 0 for 1 in the ideas game."

"It's about Sam" Dean said, running his hand over the Doc's skin, trying to ease the guilt that she carried over what had happened.

"Yes" she confirmed quietly "I was just thinking…we are never going to be able to help him if we can't find him, and Bobby and Pat have had no luck trying to pick up the trail"

"Yeah?" Dean prompted.

"I was just sort of playing around with the idea of perhaps using Beleth to help us find him…You know that whole 'enemy of my enemy, is my friend' thing."

Dean sucked in a deep breath as he thought about what the Doc was saying.

"Nevermind…it was a foolish idea." Hannah said with a hint of self deprecation in her voice "Forget I said anything."

Dean couldn't of done that even if he wanted to. While he didn't like the idea of getting into bed with another demon, Hannah had raise an interesting point; if Sam was working, even unknowingly, with Beleth's rival, then Beleth would have a vested interest in seeing that stopped. And without question, Beleth would have access to a network of information that the Doc and he could not even dream of.

'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' Dean repeated in his mind, wondering if this was just a nice saying, or a universal truth…clearly there was only one way to find out.

* * *

Look out for Part 7 of the War Stories Saga 'My Brother's Keeper'


End file.
